Sins of the Father
by Riggs
Summary: My first fanfic! Woo! A tale set during the King of Iron Fist 4 tournament, featuring everyone's favourite Korean redhead - Hwoarang! Hwoarang finds himself being dragged into the world of a mysterious agent investigating the Devil Gene...
1. Default Chapter

She sat in the crowded bar, trying to gather her thoughts. With the constant _thud thud_ of the rock music blasting from the club's speakers at ear-splitting volume, and the constant jostle of rowdy revellers, it wasn't the best place for contemplation. At any other time she would have enjoyed an night out like this, but she had to remind herself that she had a job to do.  
  
She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, pulling out a crumpled photo. She felt a slight chill on the back of her neck as looked at the image, her target. His face was partially hidden by the hood of his tracksuit, but the film had managed to capture enough for a positive identification. From his poise, she guessed that he knew he was being followed; he was glancing backwards, his haunted eyes staring from beneath that hood.  
  
Her target. Jin Kazama. Son of Kazuya Mishima and Jun Kazama. Expert in both the Mishima style karate favoured by his father and grandfather, and the Kazama tradition of several classic martial arts.   
  
The youngster should have been dead - his grandfather, the infamous Heihachi Mishima, had shot him enough. But Jin was no ordinary youngster - like his father, he carried the so-called Devil Gene' in his blood. The secret was out amongst the scientific community, and everyone wanted to capture the elusive Devil Gene. Even the Mishima Ziabatsu had been searching for Jin for months - obviously the old man lacked the gene, unlike his progeny. The Mishima Ziabatsu, Umbrella, and even G-Corporation had been putting out feelers recently - everyone was looking for Jin Kazama.   
  
Including her employers.  
  
She sighed and put the photo back in the hidden pocket. Heihachi was a wily old man; why spend time and resources searching the globe for someone who doesn't want to be found, when you can entice them to come to you? She was certain that was his reason for launching another King of Iron Fist' Tournament - to lure Jin into his clutches. She shuddered involuntarily; the thought of the Mishima Ziabatsu controlling the Devil Gene, and the power that invariably went with it, was a chilling thought.  
  
She was jolted from her musings by a large, obviously inebriated hulk of a man swaggering into her. He threw a chunky arm around her shoulders, and grinned lecherously at her, flashing tobacco stained teeth.  
  
An' what's a good lookin' sheila like you doin' in a place like this? he slurred, spittle flecking his lips.   
  
Marvelling at the originality, she said dryly. And looking for this man. She took the photo of Jin out and held it before him, hoping that there was sufficient distance between the two to prevent it from being sprayed when he invariably spoke. Have you seen him?  
  
Ahh, why go for a Chinese guy when ya can have pure bloodied Aussie? he laughed, jabbing a thumb to his chest. Yer lookin' for a man, look no further!  
  
_Japanese, you moron,_ she thought darkly. She drained her drink and slid of her stool.  
  
I've got to get going now, she said politely as she could. Nice talki-  
  
The man slammed an arm in her way, and shook his head. Yer not goin' anywhere, sweetheart. We're gonna have some fun - you know, do our bit for Anglo-Aussie relations-  
  
I don't think so, she said, her tone full of warning. Where I come from, bestiality is a crime. Goodbye.  
  
The man furrowed his brow before realising she had just insulted him. He was about to block her path again when he was pulled roughly back.   
  
I think the girl doesn't want to talk to you, the newcomer said in a low voice. Leave her alone.  
  
By now there was quite a crowd around them, buzzing with anticipation. Looking at the newcomer, she felt a sense of recognition. He was young, roughly the same age as herself, and his appearance and accent suggested he was Korean. His hair was a different from the photos in his files, but the confrontational attitude was the same - it had to be Hwoarang, the formerly unbeaten Tae Kwon Do expert. Like everyone else, he was looking for Kazama; only he didn't know, and probably wouldn't care even if he did, about the Devil Gene - he just wanted to beat Jin to prove he was the better fighter. So much so that he had absconded from the army for the privilege, evidently.  
  
Suddenly, her unappreciated suitor took a swing at Hwoarang, who avoided the drunken effort with ease, and in one fluid motion followed with a swift roundhouse that connected to the assailants jaw with a sickening crack. The man fell to the floor unconscious, whilst Hwoarang shook his head.  
  
Too easy, he said, smirking slightly. He looked up from the man's prone form, and asked with what sounded like genuine concern, Are you okay?  
  
I'm fine, she said smiling. But I'd worry about yourself, if I were you.  
  
Hwoarang looked puzzled. If he had turned around, perhaps he would have had time to stop the thug from smashing a bottle over his head. Instead, he too ended up unconscious on the floor.  
  
She sighed. _If you want something doing, do it yourself...  
_  



	2. Chapter 2

Hwoarang awoke groggily, wincing at the throbbing at the back of his skull. He wasn't in the grubby motel where he had been staying for the past three weeks - the place smelt too good, and the bed beneath him was far more comfortable than what he was used to. He opened an eye slightly, hoping that the new sensory input wouldn't cause his head to explode.  
  
The room around him was clean and bright, but somewhat bland. A decent hotel room, he concluded - it didn't have the sense of being lived in that most people's homes have. The only personal touches were a CD Walkman on the side table with a few CDs, and an electric guitar propped up against the opposite wall, its case also neatly rested next to it.  
  
Ah, you're awake, a female voice said, surprisingly in his native Korean - the accent was odd, but understandable. How's the head?  
  
He looked to the source of the voice. It belonged to the girl he had rescued' the night before. Was it the night before? He couldn't be sure how long he was out for.   
  
he said. What happened?  
  
She eased a new ice-pack under his head, wincing in sympathy. You took your eye off the ball. You failed to assess how may hostiles were in your vicinity. She grinned mischievously. I thought they were supposed to teach you to do that in the army?  
  
Hwoarang jolted up, then immediately regretted it. He lowered himself back down gingerly, eyes watering. What...do you...know? he grunted, face contorted.  
  
I know who you are, she said, And I know you've gone AWOL from the army - which is why I took care of you myself, rather than leaving to the police or hospital to deal with. They both may have raised rather awkward questions concerning your papers.  
  
As for last night, you attempted to save me from the unwanted attentions of a drunken git. Unfortunately, the drunken git had friends, one of whom gave you that rather charming bump on the head. Fortunately, you have a thick skull.  
  
Hwoarang shifted on the bed, frowning. You saw him start to attack me-  
  
-And warned you, yes. A little late, perhaps, she conceded, But I wanted to see if you were as good as they say.  
  
I am, he said, with surprising confidence considering his current predicament. He grinned lopsidedly. I'm just a sucker for a pretty face. Does the face have a name?  
  
she replied, Dai Martin.  
  
What happened after I got knocked out, then? Hwoarang asked. And how did I get here?  
  
A full scale brawl started. Words were said, punches were thrown, and me and the barman were the last standing, she chuckled darkly. Apparently, we're now both barred from that esteemed establishment.  
  
As for how you got here, I carried you-  
  
No way! Hwoarang interjected disbelievingly. You're kidding, right?  
  
Sadly, no, Dai grinned. You should have seen the expression on the receptionist's face when I walked into the lobby with you slung over my shoulder!  
  
Hwoarang just looked at her, not sure if she was being serious. She rolled her eyes.  
  
If you would have held back in the bar, you would have seen that I'm more than capable of looking after myself. She paused. But I appreciate the thought, really.  
Last time I help out a damsel in distress, Hwoarang muttered, still trying to picture this delicate looking girl finishing up a brawl then carrying him halfway across town. he began, trying to change the subject, What're you doing here?  
  
I decided to stop over here before carrying on to Japan for the tournament, Dai replied.   
  
You're entering the tournament? Hwoarang paused. Any particular reason?   
  
You mean other than untold riches and power, not to mention being officially recognised as the world's greatest fighter? Dai pauses as if she was thinking about it. Hwoarang smirked.  
  
Didn't anyone tell you that sarcasm is the lowest form of humour?  
  
Who says I was being sarcastic? she smirked back. But no, you're right. I imagine I'm entering the tournament for much the same reason that you are - I'm looking for Jin Kazama.  
  
Hwoarang's face fell. Oh. _Him._  
  
Hmmm, no love lost _there_, I see, she said. So, as we have similar goals, I suggest we travel together.  
  
Hwoarang looked surprised, then distrustful.   
  
Dai folded her arms. I have no interest in the tournament - I just need to find Kazama, and as you know, he's a difficult man to find. I think that there's very few people that stand a chance of beating him. You're one of them. I'd really hate for him to be knocked out of the tournament and go underground again.  
  
Hwoarang pondered her words. If I said I understood, I'd be lying. And how would this arrangement benefit me?   
  
She raised an eyebrow. Apart from the loving care and attention you'll recieve every time someone smashes a bottle over your head-  
  
That _won't_ happen again, Hwoarang muttered. She nodded, as if to concede the point.  
  
The main advantages for you is that my employers will pay for accomodation - you won't have to rely on friends or motels that your army friends may be paying close attention to. And my employers may - _may_ - be able to cut a deal with your superiors, get them off your back.  
  
Hwoarang looked mystified, then skeptical. And how do I know I can trust you?  
  
Jeez, tough crowd, Dai laughed slightly. I thought you were a sucker for a pretty face'? Quite frankly, you can't know whether to trust me or not. But what have you got to lose? She shrugged. If I had wanted to, I could have handed you back to your superiors trussed up on a plate. We can travel alone or we can travel together. It doesn't bother me.  
  
Hwoarang sighed. Okay, I'll don't see why not. Besides, he said, plumping the pillows behind him, I could get used to this.


	3. Chapter 3

Dai held the phone a few inches further away from her ear. Her boss was screaming at her. Again.  
  
What on earth made you think you had the authority to make such an offer? he bellowed, his clipped English accent crackling on the long distance line. And how on earth do you think that dragging a street punk - one on the run from the Korean army - will help your mission?  
  
Calm down, Jeremy, she sighed. He's a formidable fighter. What if I get knocked out? If he gets to fight the target, then he stands a good chance of winning. Kazama might disappear again. We've been searching for him for two years - you gave me the authority to do anything in my power to successfully complete this mission-  
  
Do you realise how many strings I have to pull to complete your the voice continued to rage. Do you realise what expenses you have racked up in the past two days alone? And I heard something about a bar brawl- are you _laughing_?  
  
No sir, it's the airport air conditioning, Dai lied, stifling her mirth. But, really it'll all be worth it, Jeremy. Remember, I haven't been to Japan since I was a child, whereas Hwoarang is familiar with Tokyo. His knowledge will help expedite this mission.  
  
the reply came through the handset, sounding less than convinced. Dai grinned, unable to resist another opportunity to rile her superior.  
  
And he's cute to have around...  
  
WHAT was that?-  
  
Jeremy, you're breaking up. Can you-  
  
She turned off her phone, grinning. She looked up at the board - her flight had been called.  
  
  
Hwoarang shifted in his seat. He hated airports. He hated the screaming children, with their screaming parents, and, most of all, he hated the waiting. To him, patience wasn't a virtue, it was a chore.  
  
His discomfort was magnified by the fact his new travelling companion had insisted on implementing a few minor cosmetic changes', as she had called them. The first was tinting his hair back to a more natural dark hue. Having being dying his hair bright red from the age of sixteen, it was quite a shock to see his reflection topped by a mop of black hair. Even worse, she had made him comb his locks into a neat, centre parted style - since his conscription into the army, he had compensated for his enforced haircut by moulding it into jagged waxed spikes.   
  
It's not me, he had said, shaking his head. She had rolled her eyes.  
  
That's the point! she exclaimed. Do you want to be found? _Before_ you fight Kazama?  
  
After that was the worst part - she had handed him his clothes. Her expression had left no room for argument, so he had changed from his usual gear into her selection of garments without a word.  
  
He stood up and ambled over to the window overlooking the runway. His reflection seemed alien to him. He was wearing a suit, for god's sake! At least his mother would have liked it...  
  
I look like a lawyer, he muttered, grimacing.  
  
That's the point!  
  
Hwoarang jumped. He had never heard her approach, nor noticed her reflection. She smiled that infuriating smile. She, too, had changed; gone were her buckled denim flares, heavy boots and full-length leather coat - they had been replaced by a smart pinstripe jacket and skirt, and dainty shoes. Her wild locks had been tamed into a prim twist, held by a bronze clasp. She, however, seemed quite comfortable - it made Hwoarang wonder which style was truest to her real self. Given the guitar and CDs in the hotel room, he assumed the first.  
  
C'mon, we've been called. Remember, you're an assistant manager for a small computer firm based in Seoul. You don't speak any English, so I'm your secretary and translator-  
  
But my English is fine! Hwoarang protested, this time in English, to prove his point. Dai frowned.  
  
Hwoarang the AWOL Tae Kwon Do expert's English is fine. Hwang Sung-hong, assistant manager, can't speak a word of English. Understand?  
  
Hwoarang picked up his briefcase as they headed towards their gate. I hate all this cloak and dagger bullshit, he said, speaking once again in his native Korean.  
  
What can I say? It's necessary, she said, this time with a touch of sympathy in her voice. I'm not keen on it myself, but I do what has to be done. Why risk everything on self-image?  
  
Hwoarang pondered this. I suppose so. And, he added dryly, I do look good in a suit...  
  
That's the spirit! she laughed. By the way, have you ever travelled in business class before?  
  



	4. Chapter 4

THUD.  
  
He had failed. His whole life was a failure.  
  
THUD.  
  
He had failed to protect his mother from Toshin.  
  
THUD.  
  
He had failed to see Heihachi for what he really was. Allowed himself to be betrayed.  
  
THUD.  
  
He had failed to fight the darkness encroaching upon his soul. He had failed to realise the potency of the Devil Gene flowing through his body.  
  
THUD.   
  
He would not fail again.  
  
With a final blow, the makeshift punch bag was ripped from its moorings. He looked at it for a few moments, as he breathed heavily, the sweat pouring off his body.   
  
He knelt by the nearby stream, splashing the cool water on his face. He gazed at his reflection. He didn't look evil - the face looking back at him was the same that had greeted him throughout his life. But the malevolence was there, awakened two years ago by his grandfather's betrayal. He remembered the sheer blind fury that had fuelled him, remembered hardly noticing the pain of the huge feathered wings that had split his skin as they emerged from his back - remembered hardly noticing the wings at all.  
  
What the hell was he? What _kind_ of hell was he?  
  
It had taken two years to get any kind of answer. Much of it Jin Kazama had already guessed - he had been told that Kazuya Mishima, his father, had possessed some sort of dark power that was not entirely his own. It seemed that that legacy had been passed down to him.  
  
He shuddered as he remembered his mother, fearful, crying, telling him at the age of fifteen the truth about his father; how upon his death, she had been confronted by a devilish spirit, who she had fought and defeated. Or at least, thought she had defeated...  
  
Could it be? Had that encounter tainted him with evil, before he was even born? Did he even have a choice in the path his life would take now? How could he live any kind of normal life, knowing what he knew? There were many questions to which he could find no answers.  
  
He looked around him, trying to take solace in the forest, listening to the myriad of sounds around him; the trickling of the stream, the rustling of the trees, swaying in the light breeze, the chorus of birds singing. Sometimes, he felt that he could almost hear his mother calling him.  
  
He thought Ling. She had been one of his few friends at the Mishima funded college that they had both attended, if only for a short time. She had no idea of Heihachi's true nature. He had warned her, anonymously, by email. He hoped she had the sense to take it seriously.  
  
But Heihachi was hatching a new plan - he had announced a fourth King of Iron Fist' Tournament. The stakes were high - the winner would be handed the Mishima Ziabatsu, in all its entirety. He had wondered why Heihachi had gone to such extreme measures.   
  
He had obtained a list of the entrants so far. Some of them were familiar names; Yoshimitsu, the bizarre but kindly ninja; Paul Phoenix, the American martial artist; Nina Williams, the deadly Irish woman - people that had been competing ever since the first tournament. Although the competitors were still applying, there was one name that had provided him an answer to his question...and it had chilled him to his core.  
  
Kazuya Mishima.  
  
He had almost been physically sick when he had read that name. At first he had hoped that it was just someone with the same name, some prankster, but he knew the truth in his heart. His father was, quite literally, alive and kicking.  
  
Despite knowing firsthand the potency of the Devil Gene, having survived his grandfather's brutal, point blank assassination attempt, Jin was still stunned by his father's resurrection.   
  
Between them, Heihachi and Kazuya had made the Mishima Ziabatsu one of the most feared conglomerates worldwide, letting the darkness within show through the cracks of a seemingly respectable veneer. It was obvious to him that Heihachi had set a trap for Kazuya, and that Kazuya was walking, probably willingly, into that trap.  
  
All his thoughts had lead him to one conclusion; he could use this tournament - if he could bring and end to the Mishima Ziabatsu, destroy the progenitors of his bloodline, then perhaps his nightmare would end.  
  
Perhaps finally he could be free.


	5. Chapter 5

Hwoarang couldn't help but smile at Dai's exuberance as they wandered about the Roppongi district. He certainly felt much more comfortable here than back at the Hotel Okura - at here he could be himself without fear of being arrested.   
  
His self-appointed mission for the night was to find out as much as possible about Dai. She was evidently in the employ of an organisation of some influence, which was intriguing in itself. She had a vaguely Japanese air about her, yet also possessed more Western features, such as her electric blue eyes.   
  
In a way he was irked by his curiosity. He had to admit to himself that he liked her - liked her _a lot_, and he trusted her, despite his common-sense telling him to do otherwise. The fact he knew so little about her, yet she knew so much about him was also should have worried him...but it didn't. Above all, he found her to be _distracting_. He'd have to force himself not to think about her when they were apart, which was rare, but he also cursed himself every time he tried to remain aloof and detached when he spoke to her. Occasionally he'd let his guard down, but afterwards he would be filled with a paranoia that he had said something stupid.  
  
  
  
Dai's voice cut through his thoughts. He felt slightly guilty, not to mention flustered.  
  
Nothing, I was just thinking, he answered defensively. She smirked.  
  
Ah. I wondered what that burning smell was-  
  
He pulled his face into an expression of mock fury and tapped her briskly on the head with the cluster of flyers they accumulated throughout the night. I thought English people were supposed to be the epitome of politeness?  
  
Ahh. And what makes you assume that I'm English?  
  
I heard you talking to that American tourist. You were speaking English with a funny accent.  
  
A funny accent'? I'm almost offended...  
  
Hwoarang's face dropped. Well, not funny, but, well...um... He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Well, weird. He grimaced at her continued scowl. Not weird! Just...different. Not American!  
  
Dai's stern expression cracked as she burst out laughing. You are so easy to wind up! She wiped a tear from her eye as Hwoarang looked noticeably relieved, and also a bit riled. Well, your powers of aural observation are correct. I'm English.  
  
As for being polite...have you ever been to a Premiership football match? She chuckled. English politeness can be very selective!  
  
But you look kinda Japanese... Hwoarang ventured. Dai smiled.   
  
Fishing, are we?  
  
Well, as you know so much about me, he countered, folding his arms, I think it's only fair that I should know something about you.  
  
Fair enough, she acceded, smiling lopsidedly. I was born in Japan - I am what some of the yokels in good old Derbyshire call half-caste'. Half Japanese, half English-  
  
Hey, you should be _really_ polite-  
  
Dai laughed. Sorry to disappoint you! My parents split up when I was really young, and I was taken to England when I was less than a year old. I didn't see Japan again until I was ten years old, and then it was only for a few weeks.  
How come you speak Japanese with such a natural accent? Hwoarang asked curiously.  
  
My mother taught me, Dai answered. She would switch between Japanese and English all the time. Plus, there were all my martial arts tutors-  
  
All'? How many did you have?  
  
Well, there was Yamada-sensei, my ninjitsu teacher, and Tetsuji, my Aikido teacher. Upon my mother's instructions, they spoke only in Japanese in front of me. She smiled at the memory. The number of times Tetsuji knocked me over the head with a bokken for not removing my shoes...  
  
And where did you learn Korean? Hwoarang asked as they neared their destination.  
  
I took up Tae Kwon Do two years ago, she explained. As part of the TAGB gradings, you have to be able to understand basic Korean terms, so I thought What the hell, might as well learn the entire language', so I bought a book and a cassette.  
  
You learnt Korean from a _book_? Hwoarang said, clearly astonished. How long did that take you?  
  
A couple of weeks to get through the book, and learn the basics. The rest is on-going - you're good practice, by the way.  
  
I'm impressed, Hwoarang said. He looked up as they came to a halt, feeling a pang of nostalgia. It was here, at this very club, he had fought his first battle in the previous tournament, against Forest Law. He had won, but not easily the match had taken over half an hour. He remembered his surprise as Law seemed to take the defeat in his stride. Now he was here again - not to fight, as his bout was scheduled for the following evening, but to watch the first battle of the tournament.   
  
Well, here we are, he said, glancing at the queue of spectators eagerly awaiting to get in. Fortunately, as competitors, they were allowed straight in.  
  
The club had been cleared of chairs and tables, and the CCTV had been adjusted so that all cameras were focused on the dance floor, where the fight would begin. They would transmit the images to the monitors dotted around the club, for those spectators that were too timid (or too smart) to stand close to the action. The bolder (or less intelligent) spectators were already jostling each other for the closest positions to the ring.   
  
The pugilists were preparing themselves. A huge hulk of a man, was skulking around the edge of the ring - the number of spectators on his side were noticeably thinner.  
  
Craig Marduk, Dai whispered to Hwoarang. He was a champion on the Vale Tudo circuit, until he got himself booted out over some minor scandal. He ended up killing a guy in a bar brawl. He must have only got out of jail recently - he was supposed to be in for ten years...  
  
Maybe they let him out for good behaviour, Hwoarang snickered. Dai raised a brow.  
  
I doubt it.  
  
His opponent entered the ring, accompanied by applause and wolf-whistles. She adjusted the laces on her trousers, then stretched, much to the gratification of the males in the audience.  
  
He's going to break her, Hwoarang stated matter-of-factly. She looks more like an extra from a Britney Spears video than a fighter.  
  
Looks can be deceptive, Dai reminded him. That's Christie Monterio - she was taught caperioeria by Eddie Gordo. But, she added, That get up is totally impractical. What _is_ she wearing?  
  
Not a lot, Hwoarang smirked. Deciding it would be safer to change the subject Hwoarang pointed into the crowd. Isn't that Paul Phoenix?  
  
A middle-aged blonde man in biking leathers stood in the centre of a small crowd, whose expressions ranged from awe to distaste as he told of how he was robbed of the title at the last tournament.  
  
He's still harping over how he's the true victor then, Hwoarang sneered. I'd heard as much.  
  
Must be here to see the match. She glanced round. The club was now filled to over capacity. It's due to start in a couple of minutes. Let's get a better view.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first round of the fourth Mishima Ziabatsu The King of Iron Fist' Tournament!  
  
The announcers words were greeted with frenetic cheering from the crowd.  
  
Our competitors tonight are the Emperor of Brutality, the King of Pain, Craig Marduk!  
  
Marduk circled his side of the ring like a predator, scowling at the booing crowd.  
  
And the beautiful, the deadly Christie Monteiro!  
  
Christie flirted with the crowd, blowing kisses as they cheered and applauded her. A few rows from the front, Dai smirked.  
  
It may work on the crowd, but I don't think Marduk is impressed, she said, leaning towards Hwoarang. He nodded.   
  
I can't see her getting many wolf-whistles once he's finished with her, either. he agreed. He paused for a moment. Hell, I can't see her getting _up_ once he's finished with her.  
  
The bell rang and the fight begun. Christie began a frenzied, whirling attack, taking Marduk's legs from underneath him. As he fell heavily, his expression turned from surprise to outraged. He lunged at the young woman with surprising speed for his size, landing a heavy blow to her midriff.   
  
She stumbled back, clearly winded. However, she was aware enough to dodge Marduk's attempt to grab her, wincing as she sprang backwards. She followed her dodge with an attack of her own.  
  
In theory, it should have worked - the momentum should have toppled the behemoth. Unfortunately for Christie, Marduk had learnt not to underestimate her, and was ready. He rolled with the kick, grabbed her head, and promptly thrust it into a mirrored pillar.  
  
Dai winced. She'll feel that in the morning.  
  
The announcer began the count, as Christie lay prone on the floor. Marduk stood looking at her, wearing an inscrutable expression.  
  
  
  
Christie stirred, raising her head. With a monumental effort, she pulled herself up, wiping away the blood tricking from the gash above her eye. She took a few deep breaths before throwing herself back into battle.  
  
She's got guts, you've gotta give her that, Hwoarang said. And I think she may have impressed Marduk now.  
  
Despite her valiant efforts, Christie was soon beaten down. She sat propped against the pillar that was stained with her own blood, her head in her hands as Marduk was declared the winner. She looked up as a shadow fell over her.  
  
Marduk was staring down at her. You fight well, he said, his voice so low it was a barely audible rumble.  
  
For a girl', she said bitterly guessing what his next line would be. To her surprise, he smiled.  
  
No. For anyone. And he walked away, surrounded by fight groupies and other assorted sycophants.  
  
Dai and Hwoarang headed to the bar. The tables and chairs were being returned to their rightful places, and the blood was being cleaned from the dance floor. As the music started pumping, Dai started laughing.  
Dare I ask? Hwoarang said quizzically. Dai accepted her drink from the bartender, and turned to her companion.  
  
Sorry. I was just remembering the last time I was in a nightclub...  
  
Hwoarang narrowed his eyes. You know, I'm remembering all this. If we face each other in the tournament, I'll make you eat those words. He grinned. Assuming you don't get knocked out in your first fight, that is...  
  
Dai refused to let him get a rise out of her. We'll see.  
  
I got the updated tournament plan, Hwoarang said, changing the subject. It's been adjusted to make way for a late entrant.  
  
Dai said peering at the sheet Hwoarang had placed on the bar. I hadn't had a chance to look at the changes. Who's the latecomer?  
  
Some guy called Kazuya Mishima-  
  
Dai spluttered her drink and began coughing, beating her chest as she looked at Hwoarang incredulously. He placed an arm around her and motioned for the bartender to get a glass of water.  
  
Are you okay? Hwoarang asked with a mixture of bemusement and concern. Dai nodded as she gratefully received the water from the bartender. Hwoarang raised a brow. I take it you know this guy?  
  
You really don't know who he is, do you? Dai said, finally composed herself. He shrugged.  
  
From the name, I'd guess he was a relation of Heihachi Mishima? he ventured.  
  
Dai shook her head. He's his son - _the_ Kazuya Mishima. He was the head of the Ziabatsu after the first tournament. Ringing any bells yet?  
  
Hwoarang looked apologetic. I don't pay much attention to that kind of stuff.  
  
For pity's sake, Dai rolled her eyes. Winner of the first tournament? Your teacher's boss? Didn't he tell you _anything_ about his time at the Ziabatsu?  
  
Hwoarang looked into his drink, pulling his arms away from her. For a few moments he was silent, a melancholic expression on his face.  
  
He didn't tell me much, no, he said eventually. He told me he had worked at the Ziabatsu at one point, and that he had done things he was ashamed of. I didn't ask for the details.  
  
Hwoarang, I'm sorry, she said softly. It's just...well, I thought everyone on this circuit had heard of Kazuya Mishima - he won the first tournament, after all.  
  
Then what's with the spluttering and the choking, then? he frowned. Why so surprised?  
  
Because Kazuya Mishima is dead - or is supposed to be. Heihachi threw him into a volcano twenty years ago.  
  
Hwoarang breathed. How...how come he survived? He frowned. And if Kazama is Heihachi's grandson, does that mean that Kazuya is...  
  
His father. Yes. Dai breathed deeply. This changes everything.  
  
She stood up, sliding off her seat. I've just got to make a phone call.  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

C'mon Jeremy, pick up, pick up...  
  
the voice on the other end of the line sighed. I really hope this is important, and not another request to extend your credit limit-  
  
Sir, have you seen the latest tournament listing?  
  
No, that's your job, he replied crankily.   
  
Dai tried to calm herself. Jeremy was dear to her, but she had obviously caught him in one of his moods. It was extremely infuriating to talk to him when he had this attitude. Okay, it was outside of office hours, and the man had a right to a family life, but he should know her well enough to know that she wouldn't call him if it wasn't important...  
  
Kazuya Mishima is alive. Sorry to disturb you-  
  
No! Dai! Wait! the voice boomed on the other end. _Well, at least I have his attention,_ she thought grimly.  
  
Are you sure? the voice said, sounding tired. Are you sure it's him?  
  
It makes sense, Dai said resignedly. Why else would Heihachi put the whole of the Mishima Ziabatsu on the line?  
  
But where has he been for twenty years? Jeremy pondered, sounding like he was addressing himself more than Dai.  
  
I don't know Jeremy. But I intend to find out.  
  
The voice remained silent on the other end for a few moments, before continuing. Dai...be careful.  
  
I will Jeremy, she whispered, feeling a knot in her stomach. I will.  
  
She ended the call and turned to return to the bar. Standing in front of her, arms folded, was Hwoarang.  
  
What was _that_ about? he demanded. She glared at him furiously.  
  
What did you hear? she said, her voice icy cold.  
  
Who's Jeremy? he asked. His voice softened. I want to know what's going on. Please.  
  
She sighed. Ah, when intimidation fails, try cute and vulnerable-  
  
Hwoarang hissed, not seeing the humour. I just want to know the truth-  
  
I preferred you cute and-  
  
Ah, forget it, he said, throwing his arms in the air. You know, I thought we were friends, but obviously not. I'll get my stuff from the hotel. Good luck in the tournament-  
  
Dai stopped him as he want to storm off, grabbing him and lightly pressing him against the wall.   
  
Hwoarang, I'm sorry. I really am. She looked directly into his eyes. I...you are my friend. And believe, that's something I rarely get the chance to say. She glanced down. Actually, I could count the number of true friends I have on one hand.   
  
But the less you know, the better. It's for your own protection.  
  
He brushed her cheek softly. I don't need protection. I need the _truth_.  
  
She gently moved his hand away, her chin wobbling slightly, eyes watering. I'm sorry.  
  
She walked away. Hwoarang let her go. What was so important, so dangerous, that she had to hide so much from him? She had walked away, wearing an expression of...what? Regret? He was convinced of her sincerity, and deeply concerned. Whatever organisation she was working for, it was apparently dangerous work. But if she couldn't tell him the full truth, why had she offered to be his travelling companion? Why was she helping him hide from his superiors in the army?  
  
_You are my friend. And believe, that's something I rarely get the chance to say...actually, I could count the number of true friends I have on one hand.   
  
_Was is it really that simple? The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became to Hwoarang; Dai, like himself, was used to being alone, having associates rather than friends. It was easier that way - there was less chance of being hurt. But it was lonelier, too..._  
_  
Despite having known her for less than two weeks, Hwoarang felt closer to Dai than he had to any of his fellow gang members, or any of his army comrades. And, if he was truthful to himself, he felt that there was more than friendship between them. He had had girlfriends before, but they had been casual affairs that had lasted no more than a week or two. Dai was different; she was like a true kindred spirit. That was why whenever Hwoarang felt that she was being deliberately evasive or misleading, he felt hurt. And whenever he was hurt, he always acted the same way; he buried under layers of sarcasm and aggression - much like Dai did, he guessed.  
  
There was certainly more going on than Dai had told him, and although he still felt that he had a right to know what was going on, he felt like a jerk for listening to her conversation. A small. stubborn part of his core cursed him for that - the part that hated being wrong, and _despised_ apologies.  
  
He sighed heavily. Things were so much simpler before....  



	8. Chapter 8

_Dai, sweetheart, don't cry. Please....  
  
Then don't go mommy. Don't die.  
  
I don't want to, believe me. Be brave. Jeremy will take good care of you.  
  
  
  
There's...something I have to tell you....  
  
_Dai woke with the familiar churning in her gut, her pillow damp with tears. Her life had never been the same since that day. Part of her felt frozen in time, always to remain that grief stricken eleven year old. The dreams were less frequent now, but still occasionally made an appearance to remind her of all that she had lost.  
  
She rubbed her face groggily. It was a hard burden to carry alone. And it didn't help that every ounce of her common sense screamed that she would never have the normal life or loves of an average girl. Her life was destined to be a lonely one. But...  
  
Things had been different since she met Hwoarang. He was a friend and...something more. She had tried to deny it to herself, keep it secret from her common sense, but to no avail. Last night she had almost told him everything. She wanted to tell him everything. But, although she trusted him, her secret was too much to divulge - there was too much on the line, too many lives at stake.   
  
She wandered over to the window, pouring a glass of water from the jug and drinking it thirstily. As she filled a second glass, her heart stopped a beat. Outside, there were a group of smartly dressed men acting casually.  
  
_Acting_ casually.  
  
Dai recognised the slight tilting of the head as one of them spoke into a hidden radio. The furtive hand signals, the casual nods.  
  
She rushed to one of her bags and pulled out a multi wired contraption. She twisted a dial, getting nothing but static. Then...  
  
_-the target is in the hotel, floor undetermined. Searching registration entries now...  
  
_Dai swore viciously, ramming her belongings into her holdall. Experiences like this had told her to travel lightly. She hoped Hwoarang did the same.  
  
She knocked on his hotel door impatiently. She could hear Disturbed blasting out within the room, but there was no answer. She knocked again, a little louder this time. Still no answer...  
  
_We need to get out of here...now, she thought._ Taking a quick look around her, checking that the corridor was clear, she picked the lock of the door.  
  
She stepped into the room and her blood froze. There had been a struggle, evidently - Hwoarang's possessions were scattered haphazardly all around, and on the wall...  
  
On the wall there was a deep crimson stain. The thick, luxurious carpet was also flecked with red. Dai realised that her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest, a her stomach twisted uncomfortably.  
  
she whispered.  
  
Then, quite casually, Hwoarang emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and a red stained towel around his head. For a finishing touch, he had a toothbrush protruding from his mouth. He stood there like a startled rabbit.  
  
Err, Dai? he began, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth and making sure his towel was secure.  
  
What the hell happened here? Dai snapped, starting to bundle his belongings into his bag. Were you attacked?  
  
he frowned, clearly confused. No, why?   
  
We've got company. When you didn't answer, and then I came in and saw all this, and-  
  
Oh. _Oh_, he said with realisation, looking embarrassed. I was going to tidy up. Honest...  
  
She looked at him incredulously. Just get dressed, unless you plan on escaping like _that_.  
  
He went back into the bathroom with a random selection of clothes. I'm usually tidier, really... his voice came from within. The music switched off. It's just, you know, after being in the army it's kinda cool to relax-  
  
Dai exclaimed. How the hell can you relax in a complete and utter tip?! And what are these stains?!  
  
Hwoarang emerged fully clothed and grinning. His hair, still damp, was back to its more familiar deep red. Dai sighed.  
  
she muttered, trying not to smile. Just simply unbelievable...  
  
Thank you, Hwoarang said, stuffing his CD player into his bag. I think that's everything. So, what's this company you're worried about?  
  
A bunch of guys - trained operatives, I'd say from their behaviour and equipment - outside the hotel looking for a target within.  
  
They cautiously looked outside into the corridor - so far, so good. Hwoarang nodded.  
  
Coast's clear. I say we go through the front door - I can't see that they'll do that much with a crowd watching.  
  
Dai shook her head. Too risky. We don't know enough about them to know how they'll act. If they're after you, yes, they may show some restraint. If they're after me, however... She shrugged. We can't take that risk, not when there are civilians about.  
  
I suppose that there's a chance they're not after us at all, Hwoarang muttered as he followed Dai into the service corridors.   
  
It's a possibility, she conceded But I'd rather not risk it.  
  
They ran down several flights of stairs, always looking both up and down for any sign of pursuers. They would be coming to a fire exit soon...  
  
As they approached the doors, Hwoarang noticed that Dai was holding a small device. She pressed a button on it before flinging the doors open.  
  
Waiting for them were four burly men in suits. The one shouted into a hidden radio, but there was no response. He began to reach for his gun, but was stopped by a single kick to the side of his head from Hwoarang, rendering him unconscious. Despite having lost the element of surprise, Hwoarang dealt with the other three with equal swiftness.  
  
Dai shouted. This way!  
  
They headed onto the street, and it wasn't long before they were spotted. Dai ran towards a motorcycle parked nearby - a chromed American type, rather than the more familiar sporty Japanese models. She climbed on and gestured to Hwoarang. He clambered on behind her, glancing round.  
Dai? Isn't this stealing? he asked, only to be greeted by an over the shoulder grin.  
  
I prefer to think of it as unofficial borrowing, she said, starting the engine. An angry American voice rang out behind them as they roared off.  
  
HEY! THAT'S MY BIKE!! Paul Phoenix shook his head. I don't believe this...  



	9. Chapter 9

Kazuya Mishima looked at his fallen foe with contempt. The injured man groaned, clasping his ribs through his satin shirt, blood streaming from his nose. He glanced up at the victor to be greeted with a smirk.  
  
You should have stayed hidden, _brother_, Kazuya sneered. I would have thought that even you would have had the sense to do that.  
  
Lee Chao Lan pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. He visibly struggled to summon his bravado, pushing back his newly dyed purple hair.  
  
And I would have thought you'd be dead after being thrown into a volcano. Looks like we're going to keep surprising each other.  
  
Kazuya snorted dismissively. He doubted that Lee had anything even remotely surprising left in him. He shook his head. He began walking away, but looked back over his shoulder. I'm going to kill Heihachi.  
  
Lee laughed. Ah, twenty years on and you're still repeating the same tired refrain! Just make sure you finish the job this time, Kazuya. Give the old man my warm regards.  
  
Kazuya looked at him momentarily outraged, before calming himself. His adoptive brother wasn't worth his time nor effort - better to let him live out his own petty life, full of failure. And Lee _had_ stood behind him after he won the first tournament-  
  
_Only so he could stick a knife in your back, Kazuya...  
  
_Kazuya shook his head as he left the crowds behind him, climbing into his chauffeur-driven Limousine. Since his resurrection, he had found it increasing difficult to keep his thoughts and that of his guest' seperate. Sometimes he wasn't at all sure which thoughts were his own, and that disturbed him. He had always been his own man...  
  
Or had he? He sometimes felt that he was lying to himself - he lost his freedom the moment he was first possessed by the entity which now permanently inhabited his body. Looking at his scarred reflection in the window, he thought about all that he had lost throughout his life; when he decimated the Tekkenshu no more than a month ago, he swore that he would get everything back...but some things were gone forever. He could - and would - regain control of the Mishima Ziabatsu. He would kill his father. His vengeance was all he had left.  
  
_And all that I need.  
  
_He smirked. The pure fury he felt towards his father was his own, he knew that for certain. He idly wondered if his son felt the same way about him. The boy had entered the tournament, despite the fact he had spent the past two years hiding from Heihachi. Maybe he too wanted revenge on the old man; reports from G-Corporation's spies within the Ziabatsu had said that the boy had been shot multiple times after his victory over Ogre, the so-called God of Fighting'. Jin Kazama was a survivor, if nothing else.  
  
If he was honest with himself, Kazuya had to admit that he was curious about the son he had never met. Photos showed that the boy took after him physically, if not psychologically. Apparently the boy took after his mother in temperament, being prey rather than predator.  
  
Perhaps Heihachi had done the boy a favour by shooting him, teaching him the true nature of life.  
  
What made him even more curious was that the entity within Kazuya was more than eager to meet the boy; Kazuya thought he almost felt a strange sense of longing from the creature. He couldn't understand it, but he guessed it had something to do with his son also possessing the Devil Gene.   
  
He leaned back into the upholstered seat; all would be revealed soon enough.


	10. Chapter 10

What _are_ you doing?  
  
Checking for grey hairs! Hwoarang stopped looking at himself in the motorcycle's mirrors, and looked at Dai. Do you always ride like that?  
  
Only when I'm being pursued by strange men with guns, she answered dryly. We're still alive, aren't we?  
  
Hwoarang sighed. and began following Dai up the path. He had no idea where they were, other than they were in a pleasantly forested area. It suddenly occurred to him that despite the number of times he had been to Japan, he had never once ventured outside of the cities.  
  
I'm fairly certain we're alive, he agreed with Dai. But where are we?  
  
It'll be safer if we stay with people that can be trusted, Dai explained as they walked. So we're going to visit some old friends of mine. Then, she smiled, and said in Japanese, Hello, Yamada-sensei.  
  
Hwoarang frowned, glancing around as they carried on walking. Dai, who are you talking to?  
  
  
  
The young Korean started as he turned. Walking no more than a step behind him was a man, slight in build and in his late middle years. He smiled as they turned and faced him, and Hwoarang noticed that she was almost glowing with happiness.  
  
I see that you have kept up with your training over these years, little one, he said, giving a respectful nod. He then grinned at looked at Hwoarang, This one however, needs much improvement.  
  
Hwoarang glared at him balefully, but decided to bite his tongue. A few years ago, he would have floored someone for saying something like that, but over recent months he had been able to curb his temper slightly. He wondered if that was a good thing - Baek, he thought would have approved, so it was probably a good thing. Knowing that however, didn't make it any easier.  
  
Dai patted Hwoarang's arm. Hwoarang, this is my old instructor, Yamada-sensei. Yamada-sensei, this is...my friend, Hwoarang. He's here for the tournament.  
  
the ninja nodded. I see.  
  
Hwoarang frowned again. There was something in the way he spoke that he didn't like, but again, he said nothing.  
  
Please, come to the house, Yamada gestured. We've been expecting you.   
  
Dai's brows rose quizzically.   
  
He nodded. He called about an hour ago. He said something about you causing a scene in the city whilst escaping from unknown pursuers. I'm sure you could have escaped far more discreetly if you had tried. He looked at her with an expression which could have been mock-seriousness, or just plain seriousness.  
  
Dai grinned. But where's the fun in that?  
  
The ninja sighed. Really, Dai, Jeremy _is_ worried about you. This isn't a game, you know that.  
  
Dai rolled her eyes. Sensei, I came here for refuge, not for a lecture-  
  
I know. I'm throwing the lecture in free of charge. His expression softened slightly. Reiko has prepared some breakfast for you, so come on to the house.  
  
Once in the home of the Yamadas, Hwoarang shifted uncomfortably as they ate. The food was delicious, but the enjoyment was spoiled slightly by his unease. Dai, on the other hand, was talking merrily to the Japanese couple.  
  
-he's become an accountant?! You've got to be joking! Mr Yamada roared with laughter. Who would have thought, little Tetsuji an accountant!  
  
Not so little now, Dai reminded him. He's going to be twenty-six this year. He still owns the dojo, though.  
  
Reiko shook her head. Well...at least he didn't become a lawyer! She glanced at Hwoarang. So, Hwoarang, what do you do?  
  
Hwoarang started, surprised at being suddenly introduced into the conversation. I'm in the army. Well, I was. Still am. Sort of... He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. It's complicated.  
  
The ninja and his wife looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and Hwoarang sighed. Laughingly , Dai chastised her friends.  
  
Will you two stop? I'm sure Jeremy's told you everything, so stop teasing the poor boy.  
  
Hwoarang looked visibly rankled by the use of the words poor boy'. He finished his meal and nodded to his hosts. Thank you, it was a real feast. Now, if you don't mind my excusing myself, I have a fight to prepare for tonight. He smiled tightly and quickly left the room.  
  
The ninja master grinned. He takes himself _far_ too seriously. You do realise that Jeremy's absolutely apoplectic over your decision to travel with him?  
  
I know, Dai smirked, and Mr Yamada laughed knowingly.  
  
Which I'm sure is a good enough reason in itself to have him tagging along-  
  
He's useful! He has experience from both the previous tournament and from his role in the Korean special forces which could be useful to my mission, Dai answered, a touch of defensiveness in her tone.  
  
And he has a cute behind. Don't forget that, Reiko dead panned. That could be vital-  
  
Dai exclaimed, flushing a deep crimson. I said that to Jeremy as a joke-  
  
Jeremy? Jeremy never said anything about you saying that, Reiko grinned impishly, I was just pointing out the obvious-  
  
Do you think his behind is cuter than mine? her husband asked in mock earnestness. Her grin widened.  
  
Of course not dear. But I do think his would be more useful to have around on a mission-  
  
-Well of course, the ninja agreed. That's obvious...  
  
Dai shook her head. It's obvious that you two are in a daft mood, so I'm going to check on Hwoarang. Hopefully you'll have calmed down by then.  
  
She bowed slightly and left the room, leaving the couple alone. Reiko turned to her husband, her head tilted quizzically. So...what do you think?  
  
He paused, considering his answer. He'll do.   
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Hwoarang tried to concentrate on his movements, on his patterns, forcing each move with lethal precision. However, he kept on finding his concentration slipping, his mind occupied with a tumult of thoughts.  
  
_Your problem is that you're too easily distracted. That is your major weakness.  
  
_He winced as he remembered Baek's words. How long ago was that? Over ten years, he realised. Now Baek was gone, one of the many victims of the God of Fighting'. Gone with him was the opportunity for Hwoarang to tell his mentor how much his teachings and guidance had meant to him; how Baek had been like the father he'd never known. Hwoarang hoped that Baek knew that, wherever his spirit was now.  
  
Dai said softly, leaning against a wooden beam. Hwoarang breathed deeply, and turned to face her.  
  
he replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. They looking at each other in uncomfortable silence, glancing from side to side. Eventually Hwoarang sighed.  
  
Look, Dai, he began, I'm sorry about how I acted last night. Although I still think I have a right to know what's going on, I shouldn't tried to pressure you like that. Sorry.  
  
To his relief, Dai smiled. Don't worry about it. You..,you're right. You _do_ have a right to know, but I can't tell you, not yet. Her eyes dropped slightly, and added quietly. I wish I could.  
  
She brightened slightly, closing that particular conversation. So...are you looking forward to your fight tonight?  
  
I'm confident of success, he smirked, his familiar brash arrogance returning. I'm against a guy called Brian Fury - he was in the last tournament, but he got knocked out before...  
  
-Before you did, Dai finished, a smile playing on her lips. That really bothers you, doesn't it?  
  
Hwoarang looked riled. You could say that. I'm not used to losing. Ever.  
  
Dai had to choke back her laughter. She had learnt long ago that it was impossible to win every battle; she had also learnt a valuable lesson with each defeat - what her weaknesses were, and how to overcome them. To be undefeated didn't mean that you had no weaknesses, it merely meant that no opponent had uncovered them yet. From the scowl on Hwoarang's face, she guessed that he didn't quite see it that way.  
  
I will beat Kazama- he began, before noticing the slightly superior smirk that Dai was wearing. He crossed his arms irritably.   
  
Why did you lose? she asked, tilting her head slightly, as if she could somehow gain a better insight of the man before her that way. Why did he beat you?  
  
Hwoarang opened his mouth, then closed it again. How could he answer that, without sounding weak, or foolish, or, even worse, inferior.  
  
He couldn't.  
  
I don't know he muttered darkly. He just did.  
  
Was he better than you?  
  
You're enjoying this, aren't you? Hwoarang said accusingly, eyes narrowing. Yes, I suppose he had to have been. Happy?  
  
Dai leaned back thoughtfully. Perhaps he had a better reason to fight. Perhaps you were having a bad day. But let me tell you what Yamada-sensei once told me-  
Hwoarang rolled his eyes. Dai ignored him.  
  
-To know your weaknesses is a strength; to deny your weaknesses is a weakness of its own. So do you try and eliminate your weaknesses, or do you add to them? Just a thought.  
  
She began walking away, but not before favouring Hwoarang with a smile. Despite himself, he smiled back lopsidedly.  
  
I'll bear it in mind, he sighed. She grinned.  
  
You do that. I'll be back in a couple of hours in time for your fight.  
  
Hwoarang watched her leave, a faint sense of confusion clouding his mind. He shook his head, then turned to continue training.  
  
He was confronted by the diminutive form of Reiko, the smug ninja's wife. Evidently she had ninja training of her own, as Hwoarang jumped, startled by her presence.  
  
I wish you people would stop doing that! he scowled, infuriated by her amused smile.  
  
What are we people doing? she inquired politely.   
  
Sneaking around, like-  
  
Young man, she began with mock sternness. This is our home, and if we wish to sneak', then we will do so.  
  
Hwoarang winced as it suddenly occurred to him that he was being abusive about a host in their own home. That was rude by _any_ nation's standards, never mind in Japan. Hwoarang quickly tried to form an apology in his mind; it was something he was having to do far too often lately. His efforts were interrupted by Reiko's gentle laughter.  
  
You are very direct, and speak from the heart. I admire that in you - although, she chuckled, that's no reason to not try to learn to be more..._tactful_. She looked at him, and for a moment Hwoarang felt as transparent as glass.  
  
When is your fight? she asked.  
  
Uh, nine o'clock tonight, Hwoarang answered, slightly thrown by the sudden change of subject. Are you planning on watching?  
  
I may do, she smiled. However, I was hoping you would have time to help Dai. She's very stubborn, and won't ask.  
  
Help her? Hwoarang frowned. Help her do what? She won't tell me who she works for, or what she does, never mind asking me for help.  
  
Reiko said. Well, since won't tell you, I can't either. She shrugged. On a different note...if you were sent on a mission to infiltrate the Mishima Ziabatsu's data compound, how would you go about it?  
  
Hwoarang stared at her, his jaw dropping. Is _that_ what she's doing? Is she nuts?!  
  
Again Reiko offered a noncommittal shrug. Just asking a question, that's all.  
  
Hwoarang turned and headed for the door. As he started to slide it open, Reiko called.  
  
she said, throwing something his way. His well honed reflexes allowed him to catch the object with ease. When he opened his hand he was surprised to see a set of car keys.  
  
She'll have taken the bike, Reiko explained. The car is out the back.  
  
Hwoarang nodded his silent thanks, and disappeared out of the door. Reiko listened to the sound of the engine starting, and winced slightly at the shriek as it pulled off at great speed.  
  
Are you sure that was wise, dearest?  
  
Reiko turned to face her husband. Breaking into anything owned by Heihachi Mishima is going to be dangerous, even for her. And, perhaps, _especially_ for her.  
  
Yamada nodded slowly, pondering the situation. Dai can take care of herself, he began, But that's not to say that she shouldn't be given a extra bit of help now and again.  
  
Reiko grinned, her serious expression gone, When the help has such a cute behind!


	12. Chapter 12

Jin Kazama walked away from the baying audience, pulling his hood further over his face. He remembered the days when he would have enjoyed the battle, appreciated its savage artistry. Now he just wanted the whole thing to be over with; during the fight he had nearly lost control again, feeling the acidic touch the darkness within him, tugging at his soul. In a way it was easier now, not to succumb. A shudder ran through his core as he thought about the times he had naively called upon that power, used it in the most casual fashion.  
  
_You fool. You never even thought to think about where that power came from? Even after what your mother told you?  
  
Heihachi. Heihachi knew. But he said nothing.  
  
_He slammed his fist against the wall, as thoughts of Heihachi's lessons exploded in his mind. Heihachi, praising Jin's technique, his power; Heihachi, pushing Jin further into darkness, fostering dreams of hate and vengeance.  
  
Hmm. Anybody would have thought that it was _you_ that had lost.  
  
Jin turned to face the owner of the metallic, distorted voice, noticing the crumbling masonry beneath his fist. Brushing the dust from his gloves, he shrugged, eying the crowd of people that were fast accumulating around the two men, heaving with anticipation.   
  
They seem to think you want seconds. Is that the case? Jin asked, his voice lacking any real bravado. He was tired. The other's shoulders shook with quiet laughter. For a moment the crowd was completely silent, the only sound being that of the defeated man's battered armour rustling with his movements. He shook his head.  
  
No, my friend. A true sportsman, and a true warrior, knows when he is defeated - and as such, should retire gracefully from the battle.  
  
The crowd moaned in collective disappointment, and quickly dissipated.  
  
So what exactly is it that you _do_ want, Yoshimitsu? Jin sighed. He had little patience for these sort of games. Perhaps he should just knock the ninja out and be done with it...  
  
To give you a warning, the ninja began, his voice low. You seek to destroy your father, do you not?  
  
Jin glared darkly at Yoshimitsu. That's my own business.  
  
Yoshimitsu nodded. Perhaps...perhaps not. But consider this; you hate your father...do you really want to _become_ him?  
  
Jin choked down the swelling anger in his gut. It was not so much Yoshimitsu's interference that enraged him - it was the fact that the ninja had stuck a nerve, bringing forth a point which Jin had already tried to put to the back of his mind. After all, Kazuya had attempted to kill his father, Heihachi...what made his actions so different?  
  
_Because Kazuya wanted Heihachi dead to gain power - I want to rid the world of their accursed bloodline. That's the difference.  
  
_Jin pulled his attention back to the curious individual in front of him. You've seen the evil perpetrated by the Mishima Ziabatsu, both by Heihachi and Kazuya, he said softly. They have to be stopped.  
  
Again, Yoshimitsu nodded. Indeed. But there are other ways, child. You have a good soul, Jin Kazama...don't let them take that from you.  
  
The battered ninja walked away, limping slightly, leaving Jin in turmoil. On one hand, he knew that killing Kazuya and Heihachi in cold blood was wrong. But on the other...  
He felt that he _had_ to confront his father, and bring and end to his grandfather's tyrannical corporation. That, he was fairly certain, was his destiny.  
  
Or perhaps to be a part of history repeating itself was his destiny.  
  
He allowed his thoughts to drift back again to that fateful day when his mother had told him of his tainted lineage. He felt bile raise in his throat; it hurt to remember that day, to remember his mother's tears...to remember the confusion he had felt. At the time he had never heard of the Mishima Ziabatsu, or of any of the Mishima family.  
  
_Ignorance was bliss, _Jin thought bitterly. Now everything that had been good in his life - his mother, his home, his innocence - it was all gone, replaced by rank, vile replacements.   
  
He took his winnings and left the makeshift arena. He would head back to the mountains, he decided; he had at least a couple of days until his next bout. He took the entrant listing out of his pocket, glancing at the names, idly wondering who would be next. He knew already that the Vale Tudo fighter had defeated the Brazilian girl, Christie, and that Nina Williams had defeated Law - Marshall, not his son, Forest - in a display of elegant savagery. Paul Phoenix had returned to form, beating Julia Chang, apparently fuelled by the outrage of having his bike stolen, according to a conversation Jin had overheard.   
  
He hadn't bothered to find the results for his father's fight - he could guess the outcome. Ling was fighting King, probably right now, and Jin felt a pang of concern for her. He shook it away; she was a capable fighter, and King was an honourable guy- he wouldn't overdo it.   
  
Hwoarang's fight against Brian Fury was tonight, and despite his dark mood, Jin found himself smiling as he glanced at the names on the paper. He envied Hwoarang, whose sole motivation was to defeat him in battle, and prove that he, not Jin, was the best fighter. It must be nice to have such a simple life.


	13. Chapter 13

Hwoarang cursed under his breath. He had done a number of undercover operations during his time in the army, but he had never - _never_ - donned an outfit which made him feel ridiculous as he did now. He adjusted the checked shirt and apron, and changed his facial expression to a mask of bored indifference.  
  
He had tried to think of a feasible way of getting into the Mishima Ziabatsu's data offices that didn't involve this level of indignity; stealing one of the guard's uniforms had been his first idea, but all the guards patrolled in pairs. His second had been to pose as a researcher, but he had discounted that plan due to the fact he had absolutely no idea what they were researching, which would make it more than a little difficult to bluff his presence away.  
  
If he had being performing this mission whilst in the Korean army's special forces, it would have had days, possibly weeks of preparation. Not to mention some _really_ big guns. Instead he had a few minutes, in which he had decided that the only path possible was his present one.  
  
He adjusted the mop in his cart slightly, and decided to add a slight hint of goofiness to his bored indifference. He was basing his act on the previous janitor, a young man barely out of his teens who was currently tied up in the cupboard. The guy, Nobu, talked quite freely about how his employers were contracted to clean the Ziabatsu's city offices. He had been there for three months, but the guards still made him nervous as they patrolled the entrances to the restricted area, clutching guns in their arms.   
  
Hwoarang memorised every detail of the conversation, whilst tugging again at the shirt. Nobu, quite evidently, hadn't had the benefit of over a decade of Tae Kwon Do training. Sighing, Hwoarang left the top button undone as he headed down the corridor towards the lift.  
  
Two guards wandered past Hwoarang, chatting idly. Hwoarang held his breath-  
  
You! Janitor!  
  
Hwoarang turned slightly, trying to look unconcerned...but not too unconcerned. After all, a new employee would probably be intimidated by guards with guns, even if they were meant to be there.  
  
Hwoarang replied.  
  
Haven't seen you before, the guard began gruffly. Isn't this that lanky kid's area?  
  
Uh, Nobu? Hwoarang said, doing an imitation of a nervous shuffle. He's sick - the company sent me in his place.  
  
The second guard smirked. Nice uniform.  
  
Hwoarang snorted. So far, so good. Tell me about it. I think it's one size fits all'. Badly.  
  
The first guard, surprisingly, winced sympathetically. I remember the days...your first day?  
  
Hwoarang nodded, smiling wryly. Yeah, and talk about throwing me in at the deep end - this place is huge!  
  
Ah, well if they keep sending you here, you'll get used to it, the second guard said dismissively. You got your map, right? Well, off you go. He turned to his companion. Unless you're feeling nostalgic about your lost youth?  
  
If it means I never have to touch another mop and bucket, it can stay lost. See you around, kid.  
  
Uh, thanks guys, Hwoarang said, rolling his cart into the lift. He exhaled as the doors slid shut, wondering how it was that instead of training for his fight he was practising his acting skills. The worst part was that it was this kind of stuff he hated on undercover missions. He much preferred the more direct approach of shooting or exploding something.   
  
The corridor was quiet when Hwoarang rolled his cart out, but for good measure he began studiously mopping the floor, heading towards the restricted data area. He could see two guards from where he was standing, and behind them a brightly lit room, enclosed off by bullet proof glass and steel. From around the corner, he heard the sound of several pairs of booted feet heading his way, and the murmur of low voices. He carried on, mopping innocently.  
  
The intruder is somewhere on this floor-  
  
Hwoarang cursed under his breath, gripping the mop tighter. Had they found the hapless Nobu in the eighth floor cleaning cupboard? Or was he a poorer actor than he thought?  
  
We've got no ID, all we know is that they're grabbing data as we speak - whoever it is knows our systems well and has left a trail so convoluted the boffins have got no idea what's going on-  
  
Hwoarang's eyes widened. It had to be Dai - she was somewhere on this floor, hacking into the system of one of the most ruthless companies in history...  
  
The troop of guards turned the corner, coming into view. There was five...no, six of them, all carrying enough weaponry to overthrow the government of a small country. The commander strode towards Hwoarang.  
  
You boy! Have you seen anyone suspicious?  
  
Hwoarang restrained himself; when people in authority spoke to him like that, it often made his disobedience circuits kick in. Internally calming himself, he shrugged awkwardly.  
  
Um, I don't think so, sir, he began, trying to overlay his voice with as much deference and awe as he could stomach. It's my first day, so...um....what should I look out for, sir?  
  
The commander rolled his eyes. Never mind, janitor. He gestured towards the others, and shouted louder, C'mon, people. As unlikely as it seems, our intruder must be in one of the data labs.  
  
Hwoarang smirked as they trooped off. For all the guards' bluster and impressive arsenal, they had committed three simple mistakes; the first was that of complacency. They were so used to seeing janitors, they hadn't yet bothered to check his contract ID. Even if they had, he could have spun them a line about how he had to use Nobu's ID because the company hadn't sorted his own out yet - and they would have swallowed it, too, because of their second mistake; arrogance. A janitor was far too lowly to register as a threat to them.   
  
The third mistake was to shout instructions to your troops when you don't know where your suspect is. If Dai was down in the data labs, she probably would be able to hear the guards from a mile away.  
  
Hwoarang decided that when he won the tournament, he would have to have a look at giving the Mishima Ziabatsu's security procedures a serious overhaul.  
  


****  


Hearing the commotion of the guards, Dai glanced over her shoulder, seeing if she could glimpse security through the glass panelling. One of the researchers frowned as he viewed the spectacle.  
  
What's going on? Some sort of drill?  
  
Another researcher glanced over his mug without concern, his posture remaining lazily slumped in his chair. He managed a shrug.  
  
Probably. Don't worry about it Hiroki, you know what they're like. He waved a hand dismissively. They like strutting around, waving their guns about. You newbies are far too easy to intimidate.  
  
Dai blinked with wide-eyed innocence. They seem serious.  
  
She continued swiping files while she could. She had known, of course, that there was only so much scrutiny her false ID could take, just as she knew when she had begun the operation that it wouldn't be long before the computer's security system learnt that she was there, no matter how well she hid her presence.  
  
Through the doors she could see the guards checking ID. She suppressed a sour grimace; the longer it took the guards to check her ID, the longer the computer had to tighten and check its security. There was a chance that if they had come into her lab first, her ID would have held out...now it was looking increasingly unlikely. She surreptitiously placed her discs in the internal pockets of her pinstripe jacket, and walked over to the supply cupboard. If her identity was uncovered, it was best that she was standing ready for action.  
  
With a serious of rapid electronic beeps, the door to the lab slipped open. The guards trooped in, blocking the doorway, leaving their commander to deal with the civilians.  
  
I need to see your ID cards, he sneered. C'mon, geeks, I'm not being paid by the hour.  
  
Dai tried not to snigger. It was obvious that this particular guard had seen one too many American action movies. Even when translated into Japanese, it sounded horribly cliched.  
  
C'mon sweetheart, you too.  
  
He grinned at her lecherously, eying her cleavage and legs, as he took her card from her. He passed it to his subordinate, who ran it through a handheld device.  
  
What's going on, Dai whimpered, with girlish innocence. The more she could implant the impression of being a downright bimbo, the more of a surprise it would be to the guards if she had to fight.  
  
Nothing for you to worry about, sweetie, he said condescendingly, patting her arm. For a long moment she was tempted to abandon the charade and knock the guy out. Pushing down the thought, she continued her act of nervous flirtatiousness. If her ID could hold out...  
  
The saw a green light illuminate the guard's face as the device processed the information. He started to say all-clear' when the illumination on his face changed to red. The game was up.


	14. Chapter 14

Looking at Dai with a furrowed brow, and then back at the red light, the guard blinked a few times, clearly puzzled.  
  
I'll try it again, he mumbled. The commander turned slightly-  
  
Don't bother, Dai said, springing into action. A swift blow with the edge of her hand to the commander's throat knocked him into unconsciousness. She threw another guard over her shoulder, away from the doorway and into the lab. When calculating what action to take, she had decided that the guards probably wouldn't want to open fire on valuable Mishima property. However, she wasn't prepared to risk her life on that assessment, so if she could scatter them around, they would probably be discouraged from shooting, for fear of hitting a comrade. Of course, that was assuming that they had enough humanity to care about such matters.  
  
For the moment, it seemed they did, settling for hand-to-hand combat. Of course, her plan had the unfortunate side-effect that she was being attacked from all directions, but she knew she could more than hold her own. A little too well...  
  
She frowned as she knocked another guard unconscious, slamming the back of his neck with the butt of his own gun. The guards were also fighting..._a janitor?  
  
_A smile crept along her face as she whipped out a stun gun from a prone guard's belt. Whirling around, she made short work of the remainder of the guards.  
  
Nice mop. Very Jackie Chan.  
  
Hwoarang shrugged with a grin.  
  
she began, pillaging the comatose guards for useful equipment, I'm hurt. Why didn't you tell me you had a new job?  
  
Hwoarang smirked as he threw a machine gun round his neck. What can I say? I'd heard that women love men in uniform.  
  
Speaking of which, Dai said as she stood, appraising Hwoarang's attire. Where _did_ you get that from?  
  
They began walking briskly down the corridor. It surely wouldn't be long before the alarm was raised, and a whole host of troops came down on them. Hwoarang glanced round the corner, and signalled the all-clear.  
  
Do you really want to know? he grinned. Dai laughed.  
  
Probably not. It looks like it was designed to be a tight fit on an anorexic whippet.  
  
A what? Hwoarang began, but his face turned serious. Elevator's coming up. Through here-  
  
They edged through a doorway into a vertigo inducing stairway, and began running down it.  
  
I don't know how we're going to get out, Dai said grimly. The whole place will be in lock down in a few minutes.  
  
I'm hoping they won't come through here - these are the service areas. The guards seem pretty dim...  
  
_They_ were. The next lot will-  
  
She paused. Below them was the distinct sound of booted feet.  
  
Heading up.  
  
Next floor, we get off, Hwoarang hissed. Dai nodded her assent.  
  
As they closed the door behind them, Dai rammed a metallic object into the lock. Satisfied with her work, she turned to Hwoarang.  
  
And saw the troops blocking all exits.  
  
Halt! Surrender, or we shoot!  
  
Hwoarang muttered. Any bright ideas?  
  
Dai glanced down both ends of the corridor. These weren't just ordinary guards, they were Tekken Force. They were all ready and prepared to fire, so using the purloined guns was not an option. There was three walls, a sealed up door, and a window with a fabulous view of Tokyo.  
  
She couldn't be captured. Looking at Hwoarang, and at the grimness on his face, she could tell he didn't particularly favour the idea either.  
  
The following moments were chaotic for Hwoarang as Dai grabbed hold of him, and began running the short distance to the window. As the Tekken Force began shooting, Dai forcibly hurled both herself and Hwoarang through the toughened glass.   
  
It shouldn't have been possible, Hwoarang thought. Buildings in Tokyo are designed to withstand earthquakes. Bizarrely, he remembered the story of the man who had repeatedly demonstrated the toughness of the glass in his office's window, only for it to one day shatter, leaving him to plunge over a hundred stories to his death. Dimly, Hwoarang wondered if the same fate was to befall him, as he lost consciousness.  



	15. Chapter 15

...Awaiting the hour of reprisal, your time slips aa-way - duhduh, duhduh, duduh, duduh......RAINING BLOOD! FROM A LACERATED....oh, you're awake!  
  
Hwoarang blinked with confusion as he tried to determine his surroundings; he quickly realised he was in a car - Reiko's car, he realised - heading through the neon streets of central Tokyo. In a car, listening to Slayer, with Dai singing along. Loudly.  
  
He also realised that he was far less dead than he had expected.  
  
What happened? he asked, suddenly feeling fully awake and aware. Why aren't we red stains on the street?  
  
What do you remember? Dai asked. Hwoarang couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a strange expression pass over her face, one that resembled caution.  
  
I remember everything up until just after going out of the window, he frowned with the memory. And then...I think I passed out?  
  
Some of the tension seemed to drain from Dai's face. My fault, probably. I think I smacked your head on the window frame. She grinned. But as we've said before-  
  
I have a thick skull, yeah, yeah, Hwoarang smiled back, whilst trying to locate the source of the nagging disquiet that was plaguing him. It's funny, but my head feels fine. Better than fine, in fact.  
  
Dai said, sounding even more relieved. I'll have to smack you around the head more often.  
  
Hwoarang shook his head. You still haven't told me how we survived the drop, he said bluntly. Dai shrugged as she changed gear.  
  
I have access to gizmos and gadgets that would make Mr Bond green with envy, she said. She smiled wryly. I would show you them, but then I'd have to kill you. Which, incidentally, I'm quite tempted to do anyway. What _were_ you thinking?!  
  
I thought you might need a hand, he replied. And you did.  
  
I appreciated the diversion, she smiled. It meant I completed the mission with no fatalities - always a bonus. And, her grin widened, I got to see you in that hot little outfit!  
  
Yeah, I'll have to change before-  
  
His face fell as he suddenly twisted and grabbed his bag from the back seat. He pulled his watch out-  
  
Dai chuckled. Your fight's not for another two hours. We'll be there early, in fact.  
  
Hwoarang looked visibly relieved. Dai smirked.  
  
So why did you decide to lend me a hand? And how did you know where I was going? She rolled her eyes. I can already guess, of course...  
  
A little bird told me, Hwoarang said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Though if she would have told me I was going to be flung out of a window-  
  
A little bird. A little bird, with a big mouth, Dai said, sighing. Reiko. I'll kill her.  
  
Yeah, well, get in line, Hwoarang smiled. I'll have a few words to say to her myself.  
  
He relaxed back into the seat a little, and brushed his hair away from his eyes. Dai had turned the music up again, and was tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing; he had risked everything for a girl he knew nothing about, and still had no idea why-  
  
_Liar. You know why. You just won't admit it to yourself.  
  
_Hwoarang shook the thought away. Dai turned her head slightly.  
  
Are you ok? she asked, concern colouring her question.  
  
Yeah. I was just wondering...  
  
Dai looked bemused at Hwoarang's hesitation.   
  
Hwoarang raised a brow. I was just wondering why every time I go to help you, I'm the one that gets knocked out?  
  
The question went unanswered as they entered a large car park, guarded by large men in suits. Dai presented their passes, and the guard looked at her incredulously.  
  
_You're_ a competitor?  
  
Dai nodded, realising that she was still wearing her suit from the data lab raid. The back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, as she realised she may have made a fatal error; if the tournament guards were under the same division as the data lab guards...  
  
Her concerns seemed unfounded as the guards waved them through.  
  
Park in the green zone. Don't get beat up too bad.  
  
Uh, thanks, she said, and made her way around the car park. As she reversed into the space, there was an enraged shout.  
  
YOU! Where the hell is my bike?!  
  
Dai muttered, as Paul Phoenix came storming over. Despite his age and the past few years of degeneration, he still cut an imposing figure.  
  
You want me to deal with him? Hwoarang asked quietly.  
  
No, you get ready for your fight, she whispered. I'll be ok.  
  
Hwoarang's mouth twisted into a smirk. Sure. I'd probably only end up getting knocked out, anyway...  
  
The fuming American stood by the door of the car, and Dai eased herself out gingerly.  
  
Mr Phoenix, she said, speaking in her native English for the first time in days. She bowed respectfully. Please accept my sincere apologies for my..._informal borrowing_ of your bike, and also for any inconvenience it may have caused.  
  
Paul Phoenix's mouth opened and closed, reminding Dai of a trout. He had expected a flat-out denial, not a full confession, complete with apology.  
  
Uh, right, he said, unsure of what to do next. My bike...?  
  
Not too far from here, Dai said. I left it near the Tokyo Tocho, in west side Shinjuku. Here are your keys.  
  
Paul accepted the keys, still slightly dumbstruck. As if suddenly remembering he should be annoyed, he frowned, eying the young woman with deepening suspicion.  
  
Who were those guys you were running from?   
  
I don't know, she said, not entirely untruthfully. Possibly government agents looking for Hwoarang at the request of his government.  
  
Hwoarang? The Korean Tae Kwon Do guy?  
  
That's the one. He went AWOL to fight in this tournament - it's kind of important to him.  
  
Paul nodded slowly, rubbing the stubble on his face. It looked to Dai as if he was having some kind of internal debate. He gave a resigned sigh; whatever the issue was, it seemed he had resolved it.  
  
I don't know why I'm telling you this, he began, Seeing that you took my bike and everything, but the guys who were chasing you seemed interested in _you_, not Hwoarang.  
  
Dai managed to keep her expression neutral. So they _had_ been after her.   
  
Given the Mishima Ziabatsu's widespread influence and extensive intelligence, it was only a matter of time before they figured out who she worked for. What they did about it, however, was yet to be seen.   
  
Listen kid, Paul said quietly. I've fought in every one of these tournaments since Heihachi Mishima started them. Me? I keep out of the politics - the fight, the competition..._that's_ what I'm here for. His voice dropped even lower. But that doesn't mean that I don't hear stuff. I've heard stories, rumours, about how the Mishima Ziabatsu treats people not in its favour. And that's why I'm warning you; _be careful_.  
  
Dai bowed, genuinely touched by Paul's concern. After all, he owed her nothing, except, perhaps, a smack in the face for stealing his bike. Yet here he was, passing her valuable information that confirmed her fears, for no other reason than the fact that he thought it was the right thing to do.  
  
Thank you, she said, not sure what else she could say. Paul smiled lopsidedly.  
  
Hey, I haven't seen the state of my bike yet! He chuckled darkly. If there's even a _scratch_ on it, you won't be thanking me - you'll be running!   



	16. Chapter 16

Hwoarang eyed his opponent warily as he stretched his legs - which was now much easier in his own clothes rather than the too-small uniform of the janitor. The man he was preparing to fight, Brian Fury, had a strange lethargy about him; in Hwoarang's opinion, the guy looked like a walking corpse.  
  
Of course, Hwoarang didn't know how accurate that assessment was; Fury had indeed been resurrected by the Mishima Ziabatsu's resident mad scientist, Dr Abel. He was reborn' with almost supernatural reflexes and strength, but the power came with a price; before his death, he was possessed a misanthropic nature - now that fault had been magnified tenfold. Evidently, Dr Abel wasn't particularly concerned by the consequences of what returning from the dead would have on a man's psyche.  
  
Whether by accident or by design, it had also seemed that Abel hadn't built the former police officer to last. Brian knew that his artificially extended life was coming to an end, and wasn't exactly pleased with the situation. He didn't feel fear, like some who know that their death is approaching, nor did he feel remorse or resignation. No, Brian felt what seemed like the only emotion left to him, and the one which most befitted him; fury. Coupled with that was an almost animalistic instinct to survive; if he won the tournament, he could force Abel to cure him. If not...  
  
If not, at least he could crack a few skulls on his way out.  
  
Hwoarang continued his exercises, oblivious to his opponent's thoughts and motivations. He nearly lost his balance as Dai made her entrance, laughing and joking with Paul Phoenix like he was her best friend. He regained his composure quickly, and put on an air of nonchalance.  
  
-and he does some really nice custom work, too. You should see his Kawazaki displays, he's got like fifteen of   
  
Dai nodded with interest. I'll have to check the place out. She stopped by Hwoarang. Hwoarang, Paul Phoenix. Paul, Hwoarang.  
  
Hwoarang gave a curt nod, trying to hide any grudging respect he may have for the man, whilst also trying to figure out how Dai had calmed him down. His list of possible conclusions weren't entirely pleasant, and stirred uncomfortable feelings in his gut. _She's a nice girl, and he's old enough to be her father. Don't be stupid.  
  
Why should you care anyway?  
  
_Hey kid, you're one of Baek Do-San's students, ain't you? Paul broke into Hwoarang's thoughts. Hwoarang stiffened slightly, hoping that the American was smart enough to keep a respectful tongue in his head. He'd hate to spoil Dai's diplomatic efforts by punching Phoenix in the face.  
  
Yeah, that's right, Hwoarang said gruffly.   
  
He was a great martial artist. I wish I'd had the chance to fight him. Paul paused. And I've heard great things about you, too. If you're as good as they you say you are, tonight should be a great match.  
  
Uh, thanks, Hwoarang answered, not quite sure what else to say. He looked around, a sudden frown appearing on her face. Where's Dai?  
  
Ah, she's showing us that great English tradition - getting the drinks in', Paul smiled, gesturing to the make shift bar. Hwoarang glanced sideways at the American.  
  
So...you seemed to have calmed down, Hwoarang ventured. Paul chuckled.  
  
I must be getting soft. A couple of years ago, I would've battered anyone who touched my bike, regardless of reason, or age, or gender. But...I dunno, your girlfriend just seems to be... He shook his head. I can't explain it, but I just trust her.  
  
She's not my girlfriend, Hwoarang said softly.   
_I can't explain it, but I just trust her.  
  
_Hwoarang knew the feeling.  
  
Sure, kid, Paul grinned as Dai sauntered over, carrying drinks.  
  
Beer for you, she said, handing a glass to Paul, Orange juice for me, and...  
  
She passed a glass to Hwoarang. And an orange juice for you.  
  
Hwoarang made a face. Orange juice. Great.  
  
Hey, no alcohol before the fight! she smirked. I've just put a whole load of yen on you, so you if you lose...  
  
What are the odds? Hwoarang asked curiously. Dai grimaced.  
  
Are you sure you want to know? she asked. Hwoarang glared. Okay, okay, it's pretty much evens. Well, slightly in Brian Fury's favour-  
  
What!? They think I can't beat that jerk?!  
  
Calm down, she said. They think you've got technique and speed on your side, but he's got strength and psychosis on his. And, she dead panned, If you lose, it's not the end of the world.  
  
Why, you got money riding on Fury too? Paul laughed. Dai didn't think Hwoarang's expression could get any darker. She was wrong.  
  
Psychosis, my ass, he scowled, downing his juice and scowling. He headed to the central area that was to serve as a ring.  
  
Hey, when we gonna get this show on the road, he bellowed. Dai leant back with a satisfied smile, swirling her juice in her glass.  
  
You really enjoy winding him up, don't you, Paul smiled. Dai shrugged.  
  
Guilty as charged, your honour. What can I say? It's easy and it's free.  
  
  
  
The slightly startled commentator stumbled backwards as Brian launched at Hwoarang with an inhuman bellow. One of his colleagues, a slightly portly cameraman, gave an ineffectual cry of protest as Hwoarang used one of his cables as a trip wire, sending the enraged cyborg flying.  
  
Hwoarang brought his heel down towards his opponent's chest, but Fury rolled away deftly. Hwoarang leapt as Brian swung his leg in a low sweep - an error, he realised, as Hwoarang swiftly snapped his leg out, connecting loudly with Brian's jaw. Hwoarang hopped back a few steps, putting some space between himself and Brian - it was obvious that his opponent was less fazed than he had thought he would be, as Brian flipped onto his feet.  
  
They exchanged blows, parries, and counterattacks, until finally one of Brian's punches landed, square in Hwoarang's chest. Hwoarang grimaced, his eyes watering in response to the pain. In the time it had taken him to register the pain, Fury had landed four more blows with supernatural speed.  
  
Dai whispered, her own eyes almost watering.  
  
He certainly feel that in the morning.  
  
Dai turned to the owner of that familiar, Japanese voice.  
  
  
  
The ninja nodded approvingly. Ah. He recovers quickly.  
  
Dai quickly moved closer to the action. Hwoarang had indeed recovered, and was rebounding between Brian Fury and a marble-effect pillar like a pinball. He leapt to the side of the dazed man , and swung him with great force into the pillar.  
  
GO ON HWOARANG! Dai screeched, jumping up and down, whilst Paul and the Yamadas winced at her volume.   
  
Hwoarang grinned as he heard Dai shouting for him, filling with a strange exuberance he couldn't quite explain. He landed a few more kicks on his opponent's head. Fury, he could see. was fading fast.  
  
But not _too_ fast.  
  
Hwoarang felt a jolt of pain as Brian grabbed his ankle. One look at Brian's face revealed his intention.  
  
_He's going to break my ankle.  
  
_In that split second Hwoarang made a decision. Using Brian's twisting grip as an anchor, he threw his entire body around in the direction Brian had began twisting, bringing his free leg swinging around to land on the side of Brian's head with a sickening thud.  
  
The grip on his ankle went limp as he put his hands out to the floor. He rolled away from his opponent, before springing to his feet and facing the cyborg once more.  
  
Brian lay slumped against the pillar, his eyes flickering with muted awareness. A dark trickle ran from his nose, and bruises mottled his entire body. The commentator waved his hand in front of him, rather cautiously. He stood back, apparently satisfied.  
  
Aaand the winner..HWOARANG!  
  
It was years of training and discipline that stopped Hwoarang from yelping as his arm was lifted in victory. Dai came bounding over to him, gleefully clutching a wad of high value yen.   
  
I knew I could count on you, she grinned. Her face abrubtly fell. Well, apart from the moment when I thought he was going to kill you. Then I was going to see if I could change my bet-  
  
You pasted him, kid, Paul slapped him on the back, ignoring Hwoarang's sharp intake of air. But it was tough. The calibre of opponents if really up this year. Even my bud Law didn't make it through the first round.  
  
Well, he is rather old, Dai smirked. Paul jabbed a finger at her.  
  
There's a lot to be said for experience, kid he said. Reiko chuckled.  
  
And there's a lot to be said for youth, she said. But your opponent Hwoarang...you did well to beat him. There's something unnatural about him.  
  
Yeah, look at who he hangs out with, Hwoarang managed to say, gesturing towards the lethargic form of his beaten opponent, which was being assissted out of the ring by a fellow contender - Yoshimitsu, who had earlier been beaten by Jin Kazama. Must be heading to the loser-wierdo party.  
  
Reiko began. We'd better head off home. You're also welcome, Mr Phoenix, if you need somewhere to stay.  
  
Nah, I'm fine. Besides, he looked sideways at Dai, I gotta get my bike.  
  
_  
  
_  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Hwoarang eased back on the futon, cringing as he did so. He had won his fight against Brian Fury, but not without cost. He received worse, but that knowledge didn't make his current situation any easier to endure.  
  
Agh, shit, he muttered through clenched teeth. He glanced at Dai, who set down a basin of ice. Uh. Sorry.  
  
She looked bemused. Sorry? For what?  
  
Cursing. It's- ah, agh, shhh-  
  
He let out a long hiss as Dai placed an ice pack on his torso. She had insisted on helping him, and he had reluctantly agreed. After all, she knew where everything was, and he _was_ exhausted.  
  
It's what? she inquired politely. Whilst sympathising with Hwoarang's pain, she also found its results quite funny.  
  
It's rude, Hwoarang gasped, managing a smile. I learnt many things in the dojang of Baek Do San, one of which is Never swear in front of a lady'.  
  
Dai chuckled. How sweet. I wish he could have taught that lesson to the patrons of _The Swan_ back in Derbyshire. They could be quite abusive whenever I beat them at darts. Or snooker.  
  
She placed another ice pack on his bruised ribs, trying not to look. Well, not obviously, anyway.  
  
So, you're quite the sportswoman? Other than martial arts? Hwoarang asked, his interest piqued.  
  
Ha! I'd hardly call darts a sport! she laughed, placing yet another ice pack on his swollen ankle. She was fairly certain it was only surface bruising, but she had plenty of ice. And I wouldn't call martial arts a sport either - especially not in front of Yamada-sensei. She grinned. No, he would be _most_ upset.  
  
You know what I meant, Hwoarang sighed, although not without a smile.  
  
I _hated_ sports at school, she said. The games were just so..._lame. _Take netball, or rounders. Standing in the freezing cold, in a skirt so short it would get you thrown out of school in any other circumstance, whilst a bunch of girls scream at you like a bunch of screeching harpies-  
  
Dai shuddered in an exaggerated fashion. Never mind Dante's Inferno, _that_ was hell. Okay, so I was good at everything, but I hated it. I refused to join any of the teams, much to the bewilderment of everyone else. They all took it so seriously.  
  
She shook her head. No, I'm more of a solo act. When I was eight, my mother grounded me for three months for going off rock climbing by myself.  
  
You like mountain climbing? Me too! Hwoarang grinned.  
  
Well, there's not really any mountains in the Peak District, hence the term rock climbing', Dai corrected. I took all the gear, left a note, and off I went. My mother was _furious_. I remember thinking she was most unjust. Yamada-sensei refused to speak to me for a week, and Reiko looked so disappointed...  
  
They remained silent for a few minutes as Dai replaced the melting ice packs with new ones. Suddenly, Hwoarang burst out laughing.  
  
Dai said, laughing herself, but not entirely sure why. Hwoarang looked at her with a lopsided grin.  
  
Funny day. Dressed up as a janitor, got put through a window, had the crap kicked out of me. Funny...  
Dai grinned. 'It's always funny until someone gets hurt-'  
  
And then it's just hilarious'! Hwoarang finished. And we should run some sort of tally on how many times I find myself being ice packed...  
  
Hey, I could do shiatsu if you prefer, Dai said, raising her eyebrows. But I figured you wouldn't want to go in for anything so...can't think of a direct Korean translation, so I'll stick to the English -_airy-fairy_, as Jeremy puts it.  
  
  
If it stops my body from feeling like it's been put through a tenderiser, I don't care, Hwoarang chuckled.   
  
Just lie back and relax...  
  
  
****  
  
Hwoarang woke rather startled. He didn't remember falling asleep, but...  
  
He gave his ribs an experimental prod. Nothing. Not even a twinge of pain. He pulled up his t-shirt, and, although the bruising was still there, it was far less severe than a few hours previous.  
  
Go airy-fairy, he muttered in disbelief. His disbelief was heightened when he looked at his watch; not only had he fallen asleep, he had slept throughout the night.  
  
He sat back and listened to the sounds of the forest. The sounds of the forest, and the sounds of Mr Yamada singing atonally as he worked on the gravel in his garden. Hwoarang grimaced slightly.  
  
Come now, he's not that bad, Reiko chuckled. Hwoarang started. It didn't matter how much time he spent with the Yamadas, he still jumped every time. Reiko merely stood there, smiling serenely, holding a full tea set. He hadn't even heard the slightest rattle.  
  
Well no, Hwoarang said, composing himself. His voice is...distinctive. Unusual, even.  
  
Reiko grinned at Hwoarang's cod-musical criticism. Yes. Unusual. Although, she reflected, After twenty-eight years, you get used to it.  
  
Hwoarang said, bowing his head in gratitude as he accepted a cup of tea, For that privilege, I'd marry him myself.  
  
Reiko burst out laughing, pleased to see that Hwoarang finally seemed at ease in her home. She smiled at Hwoarang's reaction as Dai glided in, dressed in a traditional kimono.  
  
Ah, Dai, Reiko began, handing Dai a cup. Have you been to the shrine?  
  
Dai nodded. It's still beautiful.  
  
Reiko looked at the two youngsters briefly before grinning mischievously.  
  
Well, my beloved and I are going into the mountains this morning, but we'll be back for your fight. In the meantime...have fun.  
  
Dai rolled her eyes. In the meantime, make sure Yamada-sensei doesn't start off any avalanches with his singing-  
  
Reiko nodded. Don't worry, I'll keep his singing to a minimum.  



	18. Chapter 18

You think she's _what?_  
  
Jeremy's clipped English accent roared down the phone line. Thousands of miles separated them, but Reiko still flinched. She shook her head, then shrugged at her husband.  
  
Please Jeremy, calm down, she said softly. She's not a little girl anymore. She's faced more dangerous situations in her short life than most people do in a lifetime - situations that we've put her in. And each time, she accepted it, partly because it was necessary, but mainly because she trusted us. Would it really be so bad to trust her for a change?  
  
Reiko could imagine Jeremy rubbing his brow with frustration, as he sighed heavily. Reiko, she has a job to do. She doesn't have time for this..._involvement_.  
  
When will she have time, Jeremy? Reiko asked, uncharacteristic anger tinging her voice. Do you really think this is the life her mother wanted for her? To be treated like a soldier - like a _weapon_ - for the rest of her life? Just point and aim her-  
  
That's not fair Reiko! Jeremy protested. I want what's best for her. I don't think that forming a relationship with a Korean street punk during a vital operation like this one constitutes that, do you?  
  
Well actually, yes! Reiko bellowed down the phone as her husband sighed. He gently prised the phone from her hand.  
  
Jeremy. Forgive Reiko. She's emotional.  
  
Finally, the voice of reason-  
  
She's also right, the ninja interrupted. There was nothing but an astonished silence on the other end of the line. He continued his reasoning.  
  
We cannot live her life for her. It's not up to us who she socialises with - it _shouldn't_ be up to us. I'm glad she has found someone to connect with; remember, Jeremy, we won't always be there for her. We can do our best, but that's all we can do.  
  
There was a pause before Jeremy responded. I suppose, he said resignedly, That I'll have to trust your judgment ...and Dai's.  
  
It's all we can do, Jeremy, Mr Yamada said. I'll speak to you after Dai's won her fight tonight. Goodbye.  
  
Mr Yamada slipped the phone into his pocket, and offered his hand to his still fuming wife. She accepted it, and he kissed her on her forehead  
  
He is going to worry about her, dear, he said. He'll have to realise that she has to make her own decisions, be they for good or ill. I suppose he's just worried about history repeating itself...  
  
If Kira hadn't of made that mistake, there would be no Dai, Reiko sighed. Everything happens for a reason.  
  


  
*****  
  


  
Heihachi Mishima sat in his private dojo, ostensibly meditating. However, the old man was far removed from the traditional Buddhist practice, long ago denouncing it as weak willed. He concentrated on silence to try and give himself the monomania to dominate all others.   
  
In these times of reflection he also tried to be completely honest with himself. He had to admit that his advancing years were slowing him down; his mind and spirit still burned with the same desire, the same fire, but his body was starting to fail. That was why he had automatically set himself up as the final contender, rather than going through the tournament round by round as he had done in previous years.  
  
It was also why he was seeking Jin Kazama.  
  
During his scientists' research, Heihachi had discovered he lacked the Devil Gene' perhaps if he had it, it would extend his lifespan, give him renewed vigour. And if he combined it with the DNA recovered from Toshin...  
  
He sneered. Surely then no one, not even his upstart son Kazuya, would be able to stop him.  
  
The thought of Kazuya made him frown. The boy had always been trouble, a wellspring of power and a tumult of emotions barely kept in check. Whereas Heihachi was cool and calculating, Kazuya was fiery and impulsive...and never knew when to let go of a grudge.  
  
When Heihachi threw his son into the volcano, it wasn't simple petty minded vengeance in response to Kazuya's similar action two years previous. No, it was because he knew Kazuya was too dangerous, too unpredictable to be allowed to live.  
  
And now Kazuya was back. He shook his head, feeling grudging admiration for his boy. Devil gene or no, surviving a fall of several hundred feet into an active volcano was no mean feat. Likewise, his grandson Jin had survived an assassination attempt that involved several guns and _a_ _lot_ of bullets.  
  
Now, he knew, they would both be after him; Kazuya out of sheer bloody minded fury, and Jin out of that nauseating sense of self-righteousness that he always possessed. Heihachi doubted that even near death could dim that.  
  
His mouth pulled into a broad smile. Let them come. He was old, but he was still a formidable fighter. And if that failed...  
  
Well, even if he lost, the deck was firmly stacked in his favour. Over the years he had learnt that honour was for weak minded fools that had no concept of power. One way or another, he would dominate.  
  
He turned his thoughts to the company reports he had received that day. His data labs had been raided - probably by G-Corp, trying to recover their stolen data. Unusually, they had sent in only two agents, although both were highly skilled. What disturbed him that all the CCTV data was corrupted, and that not a single witness could recall any specific detail about their appearance or manner of escape. Some new form of airborne chemical, perhaps, that caused localised amnesia. But how could a drug be so specific? The witnesses could remember practically everything, just not anything important.  
  
Intelligence had been tracking a young woman who they believed was part of some anti-Mishima group. The agents had lost the trail after she escaped from her hotel - she did not return. Heihachi stroked his chin thoughtfully. This girl was obviously very resourceful - could she be one of the agents who broke into his labs?  
  
He dismissed the thought. All of this was irrelevant. Every time a government had come close to prosecuting the Ziabatsu, he had found a way out, whether it was through bribes, legal technicalities or straight out assassination of witnesses. He may not be in possession of the Devil Gene', but he knew he was untouchable.  
  
Let them come, he said to himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Dai and Hwoarang walked down the tree lined avenue. It had been decided that the final fight of the first heat would take place on the edge of the forest - the crowd just loved variety. Hwoarang noticed that Dai had a strange, melancholic look on her face.  
  
he said softly. Something up?  
  
She smiled weakly and shook her head. Not really. It's just...my mother used to tell me about Japan, and how much she loved it. I think it broke her heart to leave.  
  
Hwoarang nodded, unsure of how to respond. Dai sighed.  
  
I remember once, when I was little - I was about five, I think - mom had been telling me about Japan again. I found a box - a beautiful shikki chest - and I was fascinated. I opened it, and there was all sorts trinkets in there. Her brow furrowed. And photos.  
  
Hwoarang ventured. Dai bit her lower lip.  
  
My mother walked in the room, saw me with the photos, and went nuclear. She was so angry, and didn't know what I'd done wrong...  
  
Dai's voice trailed off, and she looked at the ground. Hwoarang glanced around, feeling slightly confused, and a little uncomfortable. How did they get on to this subject? Dai looked at him apologetically.  
  
Sorry. I remember that in one of the photos, I was a baby with my parents in an area like this, and it just made me think...how did it go wrong? They looked so happy.  
  
She shrugged. I wish I could tell my mother how much I miss her. Take back every hurtful word I uttered to her.  
  
As the tears welled in her eyes, Hwoarang pulled her close, his arms around her before he realised what he was doing. She seemed momentarily taken aback, but she didn't object. Hwoarang stroked her cheek, wondering what to say to the troubled young woman.  
  
She knows, he said, hoping that he sounded vaguely comforting. He smiled, with a touch of wryness, Mothers know everything.  
  
Dai laughed softly, and reluctantly disengaged from his embrace. She met his gaze, and Hwoarang felt a strange churning sensation in his stomach.  
  
And then she kissed him.  
  
Hwoarang felt an incredible sense of relief, and in that moment he couldn't deny what he had been trying to hide from himself.  
  
He loved her. Even though he knew virtually nothing about her, or her past, or her work, he knew enough that he was completely smitten with her. And now it seemed almost certain that she felt the same way about him.   
  
He pulled back with a huge grin on his face. I've been wanting to do that for a while.  
  
She looked away, almost shyly, an expression which looked strange on her face. Yeah. Me too.  
  
Hwoarang's eyebrows rose. You've been wanting to kiss yourself?!  
  
She shoved him playfully. You _know_ what I meant!  
  
His expression turned serious. But what happens next?  
  
Next...I don't know, she conceded. Even now, I can't tell you everything. I don't know what the future holds.  
  
They walked silently, feeling strangely content. After about twenty minutes, they came upon a group of people setting up camera equipment. One of them glared at Hwoarang, clutching his cables protectively - he remembered the Korean from the night before.  
  
Leaning casually by a tree was a young man, pale skinned and fair haired. His casualness, Dai could tell, was false - he was uncomfortable with his surroundings. and he kept glancing round as he pulled on his scarlet boxing gloves. He tried speaking to one of the cameramen, but his Japanese was so atrocious Dai had to suppress a giggle.   
  
The young man was Steve Fox, former worldwide boxing champion, and one-time darling of the UK's sporting media. There had been much confusion when he had suddenly, and inexplicably, disappeared. Several journalists had gotten close to the truth before suffering from untimely accidents'. Eventually, the press couldn't find journalists willing to investigate, and the whole thing seemed destined to remain a mystery.  
  
But he was now, participating in a tournament that received worldwide coverage. To most people, this would have seemed incomprehensible, but Dai, with her extensive resources, knew what had happened. Steve Fox was under a Mafia death mark for refusing to throw a fight, and, knowing that the police couldn't protect him, went into hiding.   
  
Had he got tired of his concealment, or did he perhaps miss the glory of winning? Dai didn't think so. She remembered interviews he had given on TV, and in the papers. How he said that, although he loved his adoptive parents, he felt incomplete because he knew nothing about his biological parents, or his early childhood. There had been many tabloid exclusives', claiming that they had found Steve's parents, but they always been proved false, being either cranks or gold-diggers.  
  
Dai wondered whether the boxer knew that the Mishima Ziabatsu held the answer to his lineage, or whether he was merely hoping to get hold of the resources to trace his parents. Dai felt incredibly sorry for him; she, a complete stranger, knew more about his origins than he did...but wasn't allowed to say a word.  
  
She approached the cameraman, who was looking at the young Englishman like he had grown another head. The cameraman looked at her helplessly, shrugging. She repeated Steve's question, but in intelligible Japanese. The cameraman nodded, finally understanding, and replied.  
  
You can understand me? Steve ventured, almost daring to hope. She chuckled.  
  
she replied in English. And quite fortunately for you, too. Your Japanese is _diabolical_.  
  
Oh, sweet lord! he said, grabbing her arms. A fellow Brit! I don't care if you're a northerner, you'll do!  
  
Steve stumbled back startled as Hwoarang forcibly removed his hands from Dai's person. As he glared at the boxer, Dai felt rather touched by his protectiveness, rather than irritated. From day one he had been protective of her. She placed an hand on his arm, and patted him.  
  
Steve put his hands out in a placating gesture. Sorry mate, I wasn't trying to be improper, or anything. He looked at Dai. He does speak English?  
  
Yes, I do, Hwoarang scowled. Dai smiled.  
  
Now kids, behave she chided. The answer to your question is ten minutes'.  
  
he said, cautiously eying Hwoarang. Well....I don't suppose you know the cup results? I've been trying to find out, but like you said, my Japanese is appalling. Can't read it, write it or speak it.  
  
Spurs won against Everton, three-two-  
Steve jumped up and punched the air. Yesss! Yes!  
  
He turned to Dai. You, luv, are a star! I could kiss you- he turned quickly to Hwoarang, -but I won't!  
  
Ah. Tottenham fan, I take it? she inquired politely. He grinned.  
  
O'course. Yourself?  
  
She bowed in mock apology. Derbyshire FC. Follow a team that never wins, and you can never be disappointed.  
  
The boxer continued bouncing around, still grinning like an idiot. Hwoarang looked distinctly unimpressed.  
  
It's an omen, my friends. Your team wins, you win. He eyed the growing crowd. All I've got to do is wait for my opponent to show, the bout to start, and-  
  
He did three mid height hooked punches in quick succession. He then swung his arms backwards and forwards.  
  
I've just got to wait for this geezer to show up...  
  
Dai shot Hwoarang an amused look. He shrugged.  
  
Actually, your opponent's already here, Hwoarang said. Steve stopped and looked and him appraisingly.  
  
Ah. I see. Well, may the best man win and all of that. He extended a gloved hand to Hwoarang, who just looked at him, before pushing the proffered hand aside so it was facing Dai. He looked at Dai, jaw dropping slightly.  
  
You?...You've got to be shitting me.  
  
Dai battled with her amusement as Hwoarang muttered under his breath several derogatory remarks in Korean about the Englishman. She spread her arms.  
  
Afraid so.  
  
Steve looked troubled. Look luv, I really hate to do this, but I can't hold back. I have to win.  
  
I'm not asking you to hold back'. I wouldn't want you to, she said gravely. She glanced at Hwoarang. And he doesn't want you to hold back, either. If I lose, or get hurt, he won't be coming after you-  
  
I won't? Hwoarang asked, a touch of defiance in his voice. She looked at him sternly.  
  
_You won't,_ she stated, brooking no argument. Turning to Steve, she gestured to the ring.   
  
Shall we?  
  
After you, he replied, sounding thoroughly miserable.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

Nina Williams sat in her hotel room, cleaning her formidable and mainly illegal array of weaponry. It helped her concentrate, keep her mind on the present moment. After all, it was all she had.  
  
She was, she reflected bitterly, a woman out of time. No friends or family to speak of, no memories - just an undeniable talent for killing. The woman, Anna, said that she was her sister. She had made out that they had been close, but Nina couldn't help but feel that she was lying. All she felt towards her sister' was a vague sense of revulsion.   
  
Dr Bosconovitch had gently told her that there was currently no scientific way to recover her lost memories. If they were to come back, it would have to be a unforced process.  
  
_Cryosleep, my dear, is an unnatural process with many unpredictable variables. You lost your memories, your sister didn't. I do not know why, my child, but I promise to help you however I can.  
  
_She had wondered why the doctor had been so helpful without promise of reward - and when she found out, she had nearly killed the old man. Would have killed him, if the strange Yoshimitsu had not of intervened.  
  
It had been Bosconovitch who had put her into cryosleep, and left her in this purgatory-  
  
_Purgatory?  
_  
A flash of memory - _a man with a rosary crossing himself - a statue of the Virgin Mary on the mantelpiece-  
  
_She tried to mentally grab hold of the image, tried to grasp it-  
  
she whispered through clenched teeth. But it was gone.  
  
She buried her head in her hands, her eyes filling with tears. The only memories she had since her awakening' were of death and betrayal. Had this always been the way? Had she ever shared her life with friends, people that she loved? If she found them, how would she explain her youthful appearance, or the fact she had been missing for twenty years? Was there someone out there, thinking What ever happened to Nina?' Or had she always lived like a shadow?  
  
_Stop it,_ she commanded herself. _Get a grip.  
  
_She turned her attention to her current job; her target was a young boxer who had, until quite recently been a world renowned champion. The photo showed he was quite tall, well built -   
  
_Hand to hand combat would be unnecessarily risky, and would draw to much attention. _She subconsciously reached for her sniper rifle. She had already been through this, but it never hurt to go over any plan to find its weak points. Her employers had made sure she was close to her target - her hotel was directly opposite his.  
  
Whenever she had seen this Steve Fox, she had experienced an unnerving sensation, like a tingle at the back of her mind. Did she know him, she wondered., or someone who looked like him? An uncharacteristic hesitancy kept visiting her; she felt reluctant to assassinate someone who might hold the key to a valuable memory.  
  
As she reminded herself once more that she had a job to do, there was a tap on the door. Quickly hiding her guns away, but putting a lethal looking knife into her boot holster, she approached the door. Cautiously, she opened it, and relaxed slightly at the familiar sight of the porter.  
  
A package, ma'am, he said nervously. She bowed politely, and took it into her room.  
  
It was addressed to Mary O'Connor, her current pseudonym. Not that it mattered - it could only be her employers. Only they knew where she was...  
  
Her blood froze as she tore off the packaging. Inside there was a letter, written in elegant, looping script, quite clearly addressed to her, not her nom-de-plume:  
  
_  
Dear Nina,   
  
You do not know me but be assured that I only wish to help. Enclosed is further information about your target, Steve Fox - information which your employers do not wish for you to know. The reason for this will be obvious once you view the information - should you choose to, that is.  
  
I know that you will be suspicious of this information, coming from an unknown source, but I know that you are resourceful enough to verify its authenticity. **Please** think about it before you carry out your job - for your sake as much as his.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
D.  
  
  
_Staring at the letter for a long moment, Nina turned her attention to the second part of the package; an unmarked disc. Steadying her trembling hand, she inserted the disc into her laptop's drive.   
  
The screen lit up with the logo of the Mishima Ziabatsu's confidential data division, and her eyes widened. She had tried to hack into these very same files, the ones concerning her cyrostasis, but had been thwarted every time.   
  
There it was; the history of her life, her family...much of it she already knew from Anna, but it was good to see it from an independent source.  
  
_Assuming, of course, this isn't one of her sick jokes....  
  
_The details of her capture and her enforced imprisonment which had lasted nearly nineteen years...she shuddered. If this was a fraud, it was an extremely well researched one, and superbly put together. She scanned through the information, absorbing it, unable to tear her eyes away, even for a moment. They'd even got her lab number right; 462343-NW  
  
She frowned. According to the logs, she had been subject to an additional experiment in the early stages of her cryosleep; experiment 462345-A. She searched through her files for further reference to this experiment, but there was none; it had to have a file of its own...  
  
_Search entire database?  
_  
Go on then, she muttered, Let's see what the freaks did to me..   
  
A few seconds later, another file flashed up, entitled Steve Fox'.  
  
There were photos of her target - _many_ photos, taken at various points throughout his life. The earliest ones were taken quite openly; there he was as a newborn, then as an toddler...after that, the photos' quality was shakier, as if they were taken through a long distance lens, featuring Steve Fox as a young boy, then as a gawky teenager. There were also photos taken from newspapers, from the start of his boxing career to its very pinnacle, before he displeased her employers.  
  
Nina sighed. If D' thought that showing her target as a child would soften her resolve, he or she was mistaken; she was a professional, able to distance herself from such things. And yet...  
  
A cold sensation ran down her spine. What had this man to do with her, and her time in cryosleep? She forced herself to read the accompanying text file. A single line answered her question.  
  
_Subject conceived by in vitro fertilisation; mother cryrosleep subject 462343-NW._  
  
She covered her mouth, as if worried she might scream. If she did start screaming, she might never be able to stop. That bastard had put her life on hold for twenty years, and had allowed her body to be violated...  
  
She looked at the photos of Steve Fox on the screen. That was _her_ son. Was that why she had that strange feeling every time she saw him? Some maternal instinct?  
  
A noise, somewhere between a laugh and a choked sob came from her mouth. She had a son who was nearly as old as she was. But he still her son...  
  
Taking a swig of whiskey from a flask, Nina pulled a face as the fiery liquid burned her throat. She had to calm herself.   
  
_This could still be a sick hoax, _she thought. One way to find out...  
  
She picked up her mobile phone, and dialed in the number. It was somewhat perverse, she thought, that she could remember an infinite number of passcodes, phonenumbers and complex security protocols without a hint of trouble, but couldn't even remember how many sugars she had in her tea...  
  
The phone rang out briefly, until an elderly sounding man answered.  
  
  
  
Bosconovitch, it's Nina Williams, she said with an icy calm she didn't feel.  
  
Ah, Nina! We've been so worried-  
  
Be quiet, she snapped. She almost sensed the frail doctor recoiling. If you want to help me, just tell me one thing, _doctor_- She spat the title like an insult. Was there an experiment 462345-A?  
  
Nina's facade cracked under the doctor's silence.  
  
Damn it man! she shouted, Do I have a son?!  
  
We hoped to tell you when you recovered your memories, but yes, Nina. You have a son.


	21. Chapter 21

The crowd scattered as Steve was hurled in their direction. The human missile missed most of the onlookers, and impacted on the gnarled trunk of a huge tree. As Steve fell to the ground, he wondered dizzily why he had ever thought of holding back. Through his blurred vision, he could just make Dai, his opponent, wincing in sympathy. No gloating, no jeering,...he could see that Dai pitied him.  
  
He pulled himself up, his vision clearing. Fortunately, his training as a boxer meant he could take several blows like that before being out for the count. He dropped into a regular fighting stance.  
  
Bloody hell, luv, he gasped. You've been eating your Weetabix...  
  
Are you sure you want to carry on? Dai asked. There was no sarcasm in her tone, just genuine concern. He nodded.  
  
Now I know I'm not gonna break you with a single punch, I can stop holding back, he said, almost convincingly.  
  
He lunged at Dai, but no matter where or how he hit, she never seemed to be there. He went low, aiming for her abdomen, but she flipped over him, and, in one fluid moment, threw him over. Rolling back up, he sprang round to face her, but she was already upon him, raining down a series of kicks and punches in lightening succession. He staggered back under the onslaught, before steadying himself. She stepped back.  
  
Are you sure you're -  
  
he hissed. I'm fine. By the way, he began, regaining a bit of swagger, You fight like a girl.  
  
Dai grinned, and continued to fight.  
  
Watching in disbelief, Hwoarang wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by Dai. When he had first met her, he thought she had been joking when she told him she had come out on top of a huge bar brawl. Now he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and, he privately admitted to himself, that knowledge stirred a sense of melancholy within him; she would never need his protection, and all the times he thought he had been helping her...had he been just getting in her way?  
  
Dai switched from a flowing, kung fu style of fighting to the rigid power of Tae Kwon Do. A sharp sidekick to the chest brought Steve once again to the floor, and Hwoarang joined the applause, limited though it was; most people had bet on the Englishman, not suspecting Dai's lethal talent.  
  
Hmm. I taught her well, did I not?  
  
Hwoarang turned round to see the Yamadas, glowing with quiet pride. He nodded in agreement.  
  
I didn't expect her..._he hasn't even touched her.._. Hwoarang was at a loss for words. Reiko looked at Hwoarang, then looked at her husband, slightly troubled.  
  
She had some of the best teachers, Hwoarang, Mr Yamada explained. And she researches her opponents thoroughly. I'm not surprised she hasn't taken a hit - boxing is a crude, imprecise art.  
  
And her skills, Reiko added quietly, Haven't just been honed in the training halls, but out in the real world, where they have saved her life numerous times. She doesn't just fight to win, she fights to _survive_.  
  
Hwoarang shuddered involuntarily, being reminded of how little he knew about the woman he loved. He had a vision of her out on her mysterious business, while he waited at home, wondering if she was alright. Could he live like that? He frowned - now that he had found her, could he let her go?  
  
His musings were interrupted by the roar of the crowd. Dai was on the floor, wiping away a trickle of blood from her lip, whilst Steve jogged around, looking torn between the sensations of being elated and feeling guilty. However, as Dai got back onto her feet, Steve sprang towards her, pulling his gloved fist back-  
  
Dai's fist connected first, as she swung in a fair imitation of a boxer, smacking Steve squarely in the jaw. He stood for a second or two, before crumpling into a heap.  
  
Mr Yamada chuckled. I didn't teach her _that_ one.   
  
Crude. Imprecise-  
  
Hwoarang said, interrupting Reiko. He ran into the ring, where Dai was being declared winner. Much of the noise from the crowd was from disgruntled gamblers, countered slightly by jubilant bookmakers.  
  
Are you alright? he asked, despite being fairly certain of the answer.  
  
I think he knocked a tooth loose, he breathed heavily, whilst prodding her back teeth.  
  
Hwoarang looked at her. That...was really something.  
  
Thank you, she said, amusement creeping into her tone. I told you I could take care of myself.  
  
he said wryly. So I can see.  
  
They sat in a small clearing, joined by the Yamadas. The announcer signalled for quiet, as he held a piece of paper aloft.   
  
Ladies and gentlemen, we have just completed the first heat of the King of Iron Fist 4 Tournament, sponsored by the Mishima Ziabatsu!  
  
The crowd cheered.  
  
We are now pleased to announce the second heat!  
  
The first bout of the second heat, taking place tomorrow in the Hotel Oban, will be Kazuya Mishima versus King!  
  
The crowd chattered excitedly.  
  
The second bout, also taking place tomorrow in the Mishima Sports Hall, will be Jin Kazama versus Nina Williams!  
  
Then, the following day, the third fight, also taking place in the Mishima Sports Hall, will be Paul Phoenix versus Dai Martin!  
  
Dai raised her eyebrows. Now I really he hope he found his bike in good condition, she muttered. So that means-  
  
-the final fight of the second heat will be Hwoarang versus Craig Marduk! the announcer finished. Already the crowd were speculating on possible outcomes.  
  
Steve Fox approached Dai, holding an ice pack to his swelling eye. His gloves were off now, and he extended his free hand towards Dai, who shook it.  
  
Last time I underestimate a pretty face, he said with mock cheerfulness, but Dai could see how bitterly disappointed he was. Whatever his motivations, they evidently ran far deeper than the mere desire for victory. You fight well, luv.  
  
Are you going to stay in Japan? Dai asked. He shrugged.  
  
Might as well. Catch a few fights, and the like. And, he said thoughtfully, almost as if to himself, I suppose I'm as safe here as anywhere else.  
  
He bowed and began walking away, but Dai got up and followed him. Then, in a soft voice-  
  
Don't lose hope, Steve - you'll find what you're looking for...or it'll find you.  
  
He looked at her in wonderment, then smiled. He carried on walking, limping slightly.  
  
  


******  
  


Lei Wu Long stood in his hotel room, gazing at the mass of evidence sprawled on the bed. He knew that if he was ever to regain any respect amongst his colleagues, he had to crack this case. He had bungled a previous effort to bring down this one particular Mafia branch, and had been rewarded with a summary suspension. Over two decades of unfaltering dedication and service to Interpol, and he had lost everything because of one stupid mistake.  
  
It was his own fault. He knew that. When she left him, he should have taken some time off, but no - he threw himself deeper into his work, resting less and less. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Lei opened it, rubbing his eyes wearily.  
  
Um, there's a package for you, sir, the young woman said, handing him a large padded envelope.  
  
Thank you, he said, interest piqued. The writing on the envelope was decorative, looping...he had no idea who it was from. He opened it, and found a photograph and a letter:  
  
  
_Dear Lei,  
  
You do not know me, but please be assured that I only want to help you.  
_  
Uh huh, he said skeptically, before continuing:  
  
_I heard recently of your unfortunate error, yet I believe I may have found a way for you to regain your reputation, and save a man's life.  
  
The photos enclosed show two people; one is of Steve Fox, who is currently running from assassins sent by the very same Mafia group you are trying to destroy.  
  
The second is the assassin Nina Williams (who I believe is known to you), who, despite being employed by the Mafia, may now be willing to help you. Her evidence could bring them down. However, she may not be willing to help you, and may even try and kill you. Be careful.  
  
Their hotel addresses are on the back of the photos.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
D.  
  
  
_He looked at the photos. He had heard rumours about Steve Fox being under a death mark, and had suspected that this particular Mafia group was responsible - its Don had a thing about gambling. But the photo of Nina Williams....  
  
There she was walking through one of Tokyo's streets - with a huge neon clock behind her. Despite the fact the date on the clock was mere days ago, she was quite clearly in her early twenties - there were none of the usual signs of surgery or any other common age retardation processes...  
Lei looked at the addresses, his resolve hardening. Occasionally, anonymous tip-offs did pay off, and he hoped that this would be one of those occasions.   
  
Loading his gun in his holster, he knew he had nothing to lose.   
  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

Back at the Yamadas' home, Hwoarang, Dai and their hosts sat drinking tea. A far cry from the last tournament, he thought, when he had been slumming it with various dubious characters around the grimier areas of Tokyo.  
  
_Things change. I've changed.  
_  
Every time he considered his situation, he wondered what his mentor Baek would have made of it all. AWOL from the army, in love with a one woman army (who he knew nothing about), and currently staying with a strange, slightly surreal couple in the forest, who just happened to be ninjas.  
  
A loud polyphonic tone interrupted his musings, and Dai pulled out her phone. She looked at the Yamadas meaningfully before excusing herself form the room. Hwoarang once more felt out of place.  
  
Reiko began. What do you plan to do after the tournament?  
  
Hwoarang shrugged. Keep travelling, I guess. I can't go home, and I don't think they'll wind down the search for me for a few years, so I'll have to keep on the move.  
  
Reiko looked at her husband briefly, before glancing back at the young Korean. There was definitely something going on...  
  
Ever thought of getting a new job? Mr Yamada asked conversationally. Settle down, perhaps?  
  
Hwoarang burst out laughing. No, not really. I actually kind of liked the army, but...   
  
He shrugged. I don't know. I got to travel, and I liked successfully carrying out missions, when I didn't have a superior breathing down my neck, but there was something missing.  
  
Again, the couple exchanged glances. Reiko took a sip from her cup, and gazed keenly at Hwoarang.  
  
Tell me...have you ever heard of the Devil Gene'? she said, matching her husband's conversational tone. Hwoarang frowned.  
  
No...why? What is it?  
  
Just a little bit of genetic coding, Mr Yamada said, almost lazily. Gives people supernatural strength and stamina, and the ability to survive, well...  
  
Gunshots, falls into volcanoes...that sort of thing.  
  
Hwoarang frowned, a memory tugging at his mind. Where was this conversation going? Suddenly, he remembered a comment Dai had made, only days ago...  
  
_Kazuya Mishima is dead - or is supposed to be. Heihachi threw him into a volcano twenty years ago.  
  
_

********  


You did what?!  
  
I sent certain files to Nina Williams and Lei Wu Long, she said, matter-of-factly. It's all there in my report-  
  
Yes!! I know! Jeremy's voice bellowed. What I want to know is...WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?  
  
I thought we were supposed to be the good guys, Jeremy, Dai said, allowing her tone to frost over slightly. I don't see how saving a man's life, and bringing down a Mafia crime syndicate is contrary to our own aims.  
  
You deliberately went outside your mandate! You could have risked our own mission!  
Dai rubbed her brow. You know what, Jeremy? I don't care. It's me risking my life out here, my arse on the line, and if I think that I can help someone in the course of what I do, I will. If you still have a problem with that, sue me.  
  


*******  
  


Hwoarang looked at the ninjas, who were in return looking at him, with an air of expectation.  
  
Kazuya Mishima...he has this Devil Gene'? he ventured. The couple looked satisfied.  
  
Very good, Mr. Yamada said. You see, people with this Devil Gene can be very dangerous, for obvious reasons. And there's always the threat of multinational corporations and governments seeking those that carry the gene...imagine if you could have a whole army of Devil Gene enhanced soldiers.  
  
Fortunately, very few people carry the gene. And there are organisations that seek those people, to prevent them from becoming guinea pigs for nefarious companies and governments.  
  
A realisation struck Hwoarang like a thunderbolt. Kazama's got the gene...that's why Dai's looking for him, and why she raided the Mishima Ziabatsu's offices. She works for one of those organisations.  
  
He looked at the Yamadas. You work for the same organisation.  
  
Reiko gave her husband a superior look. I told you he was smarter than he looks.  
  


*******  
  


I don't think I like your tone, young lady, Jeremy growled. Dai glared at the phone, as if the look would somehow transmit back to Jeremy.  
  
Like I said, sir, that's your problem, she snapped back.  
  
It's that Korean, isn't it?! He's a bad influence-  
  
Jeremy, I'm twenty-two years old, not twelve! she said incredulously. And leave him out of this!  
  
Listen, young lady, I suggest you give him a wide berth...I'd hate for you to be around when his superiors in the army catch up with him, Jeremy said coldly. Dai's eyes narrowed.  
  
You wouldn't dare! You haven't-  
  
Jeremy said threateningly. Dai felt adrenaline surge unpleasantly. Here was a man who had been there throughout her life, had been like a father to her - so much so that she had taken his surname...and now he was acting like a tyrant.  
  
I think this conversation is ended. Goodbye, Ms Martin.  
  
Dai slumped against the wall, tears in her eyes. There was confusion...and then there was anger.  
  


*******  
  


Basically, we provide Dai with back-up, Reiko explained. Our faces are too well known within the Mishima Ziabatsu, otherwise we'd be on missions with her.  
  
Hwoarang paused, taking it all in. What will you do with Kazama once you've got him? And, he said, meeting their gaze, Why are you telling me all this?  
  
With Jin Kazama, it depends what his intentions are. We will offer to help him. If he refuses our help-- the head of our order will then make a decision.   
  
Reiko looked troubled by her own statement, and her husband took over.  
  
Sometimes, it is decreed that some people are too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely. In those cases, they are either tagged, and watched...or, worse case scenario, contained.  
  
Hwoarang asked. Reiko looked disgusted.  
  
A fancy word for imprisonment, where they will be shackled in devices that would prevent them from accessing their powers.  
  
You don't agree? Hwoarang said, surprised.  
  
What gives one person the right to have such power over another? Reiko said softly. Jeremy is a good man, but he is firmly of the view that the welfare of the many outweighs that of the few...but the many can never know. We are a small group, and would be no match in a direct confrontation with the Mishima Ziabatsu. Our existence relies on secrecy.  
  
Which again begs the question...why tell me? Hwoarang said.  
  
For too long Dai has carried the burden alone. She's been our top agent for years, but she's more than that to us. She's family, Yamada said.   
  
We don't want her to be alone anymore, Reiko added. We've seen the way you two are together, don't deny it- she said, smiling slightly at Hwoarang's reddening face. -We realised it before you did. Her loyalty to us, the fear of discovery, would prevent her from becoming close to anyone. We think you can be trusted, so we've told you - so she doesn't have to. Any blame will come down on us-  
  
Reiko was cut short by the sound of shattering wood, and a broken phone skittered along the floor, plastic and wires dragging behind it. Following it, it was followed by an enraged Dai.  
  
Reiko, Sensei, I'm sorry, she faltered. I can't do this anymore. I have to go.  
  
Reiko stood and handed Dai another tea. She rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.  
  
There, there dear. Was Jeremy-  
  
DON'T...just don't talk to me about _that_ man, Dai hissed venomously. Hwoarang, we'd better get going. There's some stuff I have to tell you-  
  
About how you work for a secret organisation monitoring people that possess the Devil Gene and taking countermeasures against organisations that would misuse that power? he said in one breath. Dai halted mid-bluster, dropping her cup. Despite the seriousness of the atmosphere, Hwoarang nearly laughed - he had never, ever seen her truly dumbstruck. She turned to the Yamadas slowly, who looked a picture of innocence. Mr Yamada began whistling.  
  
You...you told him?! she said, her mouth agape. Her sensei shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
We thought you were never going to tell him, so...yes.  
  
Not everything! Reiko grinned. Just the the stuff that will make Jeremy really, _really_ pissed.  
  
Mr Yamada held up the tray. More tea, anyone?  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

There was a chill in the air as the sun began to rise, slowly ascending behind the mountains. It should have been an awe-inspiring sight, Kazuya thought, although he personally felt numb to its majesty. Such was his nature since his resurrection' such things no longer stirred his sense of humanity. The only thing this landscape stirred was a white hot fury, and a desire for revenge.  
  
It was here it had all began. Here was the very gorge he had plummeted down, nearly to his death, when he was a mere five years of age.  
  
He closed his eyes and remembered; remembered struggling, pleading with his father to let him go. Despite his struggles, his father's grip was strong, unyielding. He remembered looking down, seeing the distant base of the cliff,the sharp, jagged outcrops of rock, and the giddying, terrifying sensation that sight instilled in him. The confusion, the fear - he remembered it all. But most of all, he remembered the expression on his father's face when, realising that his fate was sealed, he had asked him through choked sobs and tears,   
  
Heihachi smiled...and then let go.  
  
The rushing of air as he fell - the pain of his flesh being torn by the rock face - the terror, the betrayal - he wasn't just remembering it now, he was _feeling_ it, reliving it...and as the ground came ever closer.  
  
Kazuya stumbled. gasping after releasing a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Calming himself, he stood straight, astonished to find the sun had now fully risen. How long had his vision' lasted?  
  
And what was the purpose of that little display? he rumbled angrily. not really expecting an answer. Yet an answer came.  
  
_To remind you. To remind you of what your father did to you. Remember your anger...and remember our agreement.  
  
_ Kazuya snorted. I don't need any prompting from _you_, fiend, to remember what my father did to me. There hasn't been a single day in my life since that moment where I haven't thought about what he did to me, and how I will have my revenge.  
  
_Good. But you would do well to remember what enabled you to have the opportunity for that revenge.  
  
_Kazuya relaxed a little as he felt the other's grasp of his mind lessen slightly. Yes, he remembered that moment when, bloodied and on the brink of death, he had allowed the parasitic entity, which still inhabited him even now, to co-exist with him. Through him it could have physical form, and from it he could gain immeasurable power.  
  
In weaker moments he had cursed that decision...how could a five year old possibly realise the consequences of that fateful action? But...  
  
He wouldn't have it any other way, he knew that. If he hadn't seized that power, he would be dead...and Heihachi would still be alive. In those moments when he mourned his lost humanity, he concentrated on that one thought.  
  
_But is that anyway to live your life? Is that even living?  
  
Do not question me, Jun Kazama. Hasn't the study of your precious animals taught you that the weak, the docile, are nothing but prey?  
  
_He snorted at that particular memory. Over twenty years ago, Jun Kazama had come into his life...and stayed there, albeit briefly. Poor, naive, misguided Jun. She thought she loved him.  
  
The project of their relationship had proceeded to the next round of the tournament, he noted, with more than idle interest. Every time he thought of his son, he felt a feeling so strange, he could hardly begin to describe it. Almost like cold logic and raw emotion, all at once, coupled with an odd buzzing sensation.  
  
He looked at his watch, then signalled to his driver. His next fight was in a few hours, and he needed to get to the city. As the car moved off, he recalled Jun's response to his question.  
  
_Nothing in nature is weak or docile. Everything has it's own strengths, Kazuya. You should remember that.  
_  


*******  
  


Nina tightened the last buckle of her boot, and sighed heavily. The only way she had got any sleep was to take a whole load of pills, and she was still feeling the after effects. Her newfound knowledge too much to take in, and she still had a decision to make; to kill or not to kill?  
  
No, she frowned. She could kill Steve Fox - _her son_ -now. A vague memory stirred within her-  
  
_A grave - her father's grave - she was kneeling. There were footsteps behind...Anna. She pulled out her gun-_  
  
Then another memory-  
  
_Girls, whenareya gonna stop fighting? Family is the most important t'ing in t' world..._  
  
A tear rolled down Nina's cheek. Memories. Honest to god, genuine memories. It wasn't a lot, but it was a start.  
  
No, the question now was...should she approach her former target? Warn him somehow? Tell him the truth?  
  
She chuckled darkly, imagining the scene, imagining Steve's reaction as a woman who was only three years older than him claimed to be his mother. She shook her head.  
  
Whatever decision she made, it could wait until after her fight. She was up against Jin Kazama, youngest scion of the Mishima clan...and also a former target, although she hadn't really had any say in the matter.   
  
She exited the room briskly, and quickly made her way out of the hotel. Perhaps, if her mind hadn't of been so occupied, she would have sensed the watching eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

_He was back home, back in the forests of Yaku-shima. It had been so long...  
  
Everything was exactly like it had been six years ago, when he had last truly felt comfortable.   
  
Where was his mother?  
  
She's gone, he thought. And I'm dreaming...  
  
He remembered the last time he had returned home, the apparition in the forest; a hazy amethyst blur that made his head buzz...it had branded him with a tattoo that resembled two lightning bolts intertwining. He had no idea what it had meant_.  
  
_He still didn't.  
  
Last time he had been here, his experience had been tainted by fury, and a desire to punish the being who had taken his mother from him, Toshin...the God of Fighting.  
  
The sky above him darkened.  
_  
Jin moaned in his sleep, moving his limbs in jagged convulsions. Moved by an uncomfortable sensation in his back, he rolled onto his stomach as his flesh began to split-  
  
_Jin! JIN!  
  
His mother was screaming. Looking around wildly, he tried to find her-  
  
There she was, standing on the other side of a chasm that had torn the ground asunder. Leaves and branches whipped around her as great wind began howling. Her mouth was moving, her expression desperate, but Jin couldn't hear a word she was saying.  
  
I'm coming mom, he called after her, running towards her. He kept running but, inexplicably, the distance between them became even greater. He stumbled, falling to the ground. Somewhere, someone was laughing.  
  
A cold fury ignited in his gut, and the world around him seemed to flex. He walked slowly, deliberately towards his mother, and everything else seemed to shy away from his presence. Even his mother slumped to the ground, propped against a cedar, her head bowed.  
  
The triumphant grin he didn't even know he had been wearing slipped from his face, as he vaulted the gap, kneeling at his mother's side.  
  
Mom? Mom! he cried.   
  
After a long moment, she looked up at him weakly, tears in her eyes.  
  
That's enough, Jin. Please...that's enough-  
  
_That's enough! What are you trying to do, kill her?  
  
Jin stumbled, trying to reorientate himself. He broke loose of the restraining grip around him, and took in his new surroundings. Waxed wood beneath him, frenzied crowds arranged in elliptical tiers around him...and a bloodied and bruised woman lay at his feet.  
  
Tournament medics rushed around her, and Jin felt bile rise in his throat. An uncontrollable trembling shook his body.  
  
_I did this_, he thought in mute horror. _What the hell have I done?  
  
_Don't you even think of going back for seconds, a voice said, in English. It took Jin a few seconds to comprehend what the foreigner was saying. Bloody beating the crap out of a woman...what sort of animal are you?  
  
Jin looked round in bewilderment, still trying to make sense of his situation. How did he get here, and-  
  
The winner of this fight, Jin Kazama, the extremely nervous commentator announced. Everyone around him was nervous, he realised. Nervous, or just plain terrified.  
  
Of him.  
  
The nausea returned, and he swayed unsteadily.  
  
Broken arm, crushed ribs, possible skull fracture...we need to get this woman to a hospital _now_! one of the medics shouted, as others laid down a stretcher. They pulled a photo out of the patient's wallet, and looked up at the blonde foreigner.  
  
she said in mangled but understandable English. Are you her boyfriend?  
  
Me? No... His brow furrowed. _ I've never seen her before in my life.  
  
_Walking briskly, he followed the medics. He would, he decided, go to the hospital with this mysterious woman. The head medic abruptly pushed the woman's wallet into his hands, deciding that he was obviously related in some way and in shock. Hold this. Saves us filling out forms and putting it in the safe.  
  
Steve Fox nodded as he climbed into the ambulance.  
  


  
******  
  


In the Yamada residence, Hwoarang and Dai sat silently in front of the television. Hwoarang had hardly imagined it possible, but Dai was even paler than usual. She blew air through her bridged fingers.  
  
she said, breaking the silence. What did you make of that?  
  
Hwoarang eventually replied. Very weird.  
  
Dai raised an eyebrow. How so?  
  
Hwoarang looked astonished. How so? _ How so? _You saw him - he went far beyond what was needed to secure his win. He carried on beating the hell out of her, like, like...  
  
Like he was enjoying it, Dai finished softly.   
  
It's not him, Hwoarang said emphatically. Kazama is an amazing fighter, but he's never _vicious_. And look! He pointed at the screen. Look at his face now-  
  
He looks confused. Lost, Dai said sadly. Like he's not quite sure what just happened.  
  
And he's fighting wrong, Hwoarang said flatly. Dai turned sharply.  
  
  
  
He's fighting wrong. I saw his fight against Yoshimitsu on TV - he had abandoned the Mishima style karate, and fought more traditionally, Hwoarang explained, rewinding the footage.  
  
He's gone back to his old style? Dai asked. Hwoarang shook his head.  
  
  
No, that's the funny thing. His old style was based not only on Heihachi's teachings, but on his mother's teachings too, plus he threw in some new stuff-  
  
You know a lot about it, Dai smirked mischievously. Let me guess, you're really his fan club's president-  
  
I'm being serious, Hwoarang scolded. But look at how he's fighting_..._it's like watching Heihachi fighting - pure Mishima style combat. Not just the technique, but the brutality, too.  
  
The sins of the father'... Dai murmured. She stood up. I have to find Jin Kazama. And soon.


	25. Chapter 25

With a satisfying crunch, Kazuya's dislocated shoulder popped back into its socket, although there was no sign of the undeniable relief on his face. This King was every bit as tenacious and powerful as his predecessors, both the original bearer of the leopard visage, and the former Mishima Ziabatsu employee, Armour King. But, like his predecessors, he had soon learnt that wrestling was no match for the savage grace and power of the Mishima form karate, handed down from father to son for generations. Particularly not when its exponent also possessed the Devil Gene.  
  
Kazuya had actually found himself admiring the young Mexican; he had put up a far better fight than that pathetic brother' of his. He had repeatedly pulled himself up after being floored, and had even managed to get Kazuya in several convoluted and almost limb shattering blows. However, the end result was inevitable; King had fallen after Kazuya had corkscrewed from the ground and delivered a punch that had nearly broken his neck. _A fair trade,_ Kazuya thought, _For the dislocated shoulder.  
  
_Taking a towel from one of his assistants, he glanced up as an announcement boomed through the speakers in multiple languages. The result of today's other battle was in-  
  
Kazuya frowned. That battle had started nearly an hour after his own - for it to be finished already meant that it had all been over in a matter of minutes.   
  
-victor, Jin Kazama, in a record one minute twenty-  
  
Kazuya paused, before allowing a smirk to twist his face. Listening to the report, it seemed that his boy had indeed learnt a lesson in brutality from Heihachi. He also felt a grim satisfaction that the victim of that fury was Nina Williams, the foolish woman who believed herself a good enough assassin to kill him.  
  
As the crowds and TV crews left the area, he gazed out at the busy cityscape beneath him. He leaned against an extravagant marble statue, a modern day gargoyle on the hotel's rooftop. Years ago the statue would have been covered in a greasy film, polluted by Tokyo's businesses and packed roads. Now, thanks to Heihachi's noble' efforts, much of the polluted was now cleared.   
  
His father had done much to create an aura of altruism around the Mishima Ziabatsu, creating advances in ecologically friendly working practices, and mediating peaceful solutions to conflicts and disputes around the world. It was a sham, a ruse to make governments believe that Heihachi was a benevolent old man, intent on correcting some of the wrongs he had committed throughout his life. In reality, Kazuya knew that his father was winning their trust...and their contracts.  
  
Sometimes Kazuya wondered who was more diabolical - Heihachi or himself.   
  
_It's fortunate for the world that father doesn't possess the Devil Gene,_ Kazuya thought wryly. _Because if he did, he'd be Satan himself.  
  
_Lost in his musings, Kazuya took a few moments to realise that he was completely alone. He frowned; where were his aides? Turning at the sound of almost silent footsteps, he saw the Tekkenshu approaching. Sharp pain jabbed him at several points on his body, and as he pulled the dart out of his neck he gave an enraged roar. Soon enough, he knew, he would be unconscious, and that knowledge was made all the more bitter because he knew it was because of his own carelessness. As his vision became blurry, he steadied himself.   
  
He would not go down without a fight.  
  


********  


  
Uhhh, I'll stay here, Hwoarang volunteered.  
  
If you like, Dai replied, amusement seeping into her words.  
  
She weaved through the bustling crowds, making her way to her target. Despite all the people, the girl cut a lonely figure, sitting under the tree. Her red jacket was pulled tightly around her, as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her dark eyes were bloodshot through crying, and she looked generally inconsolable.  
  
I'm sorry to intrude, but are you Ling Xiaoyu?  
  
The girl nodded, eying Dai suspiciously. Dai settled down next to her, ignoring her wary glances.  
  
In the course of her work, Dai had learnt how to be subtle, circumspect...downright sneaky, even. However, she had also learnt that being blunt also worked.  
  
Oh dear. It's Jin, isn't it?  
  
The Chinese teenager started wailing uncontrollably, and Dai handed her a tissue. She waited for the hysterics to abate before continuing the conversation. Surprisingly, the girl pulled herself together quite quickly.  
  
Who are you? she demanded through her sniffling. What do you know?  
  
Dai shrugged. I know that you're in danger, and I know that Jin's in danger. I know that you're both on the run from the Mishima Ziabatsu. What I _don't_ know is why you're crying.  
  
Ling's face tightened. And why should I tell you anything?  
  
Dai began, I can't think of a reason...other than I'm trying to help Jin. Before he kills someone.  
  
Ling's chin began to tremble.  
  
You saw the fight, didn't you, Dai said gently, a statement rather than a question. You saw how he fought, how he nearly went too far.  
  
Ling breathed heavily. He's not bad. He's always been so gentle. Even though...even though he's never been interested in me, he's always been nice. Most guys, if they know you have a crush on them, they act like jerks...but he never did, she said shakily. He's always fought with respect for his opponents, but today...  
  
Dai put an arm around the girl as she sobbed. I was _there_. I saw him, spoke to him, but he was so cold. He just looked at me. She shook her head uncomprehendingly. I looked into his eyes, but they weren't his eyes...  
  
Did you see him afterwards?  
  
Ling looked startled, as if she had just remembered that Dai was there. The suspicion returned.  
  
Who are you? she demanded.  
  
My name's Dai Martin. I'm a competitor in the tournament.  
  
And what do you want with Jin?  
  
Dai sighed. Like I said, to stop him before he kills someone. If he does, there will be no turning back. He would never be able to forgive himself.  
  
Ling looked at her, frowning, unsure of what to think. Dai wondered how much she could tell the girl without putting her life in further danger. She bit her lip.  
  
Ling, what I'm telling you now goes no further. Jin is in a whole world of trouble, from both Heihachi...and from himself.  
  
Ling looked at her, opening her mouth to question-  
  
You don't need to understand right now, just listen. Jin literally wasn't himself in that fight, and somehow, you know that. She added in a soft voice, And if you would have seen the expression on his face after the fight, you would have seen that he was terrified. He doesn't know what's happening. I can take him to people that can explain. If he makes it through this-  
  
Ling whispered in horror. Dai looked both grim and sad.  
  
If'. There are no guarantees. But if he does make it through, he will need friends to be there with him, who can be strong. Can you do that, Ling Xiaoyu?  
  
Ling nodded weakly, hardly noticing the older girl's departure.


	26. Chapter 26

Any luck?  
  
Dai shook her head. She doesn't know anything. I get the impression she left before the fight was finished.  
  
Must've left quickly, Hwoarang commented. He took Dai's hand as they began walking, and smiled at her. The Mystic Ninjas called. They managed to calm Jeremy down, so it seems he's not gonna get my ass busted.  
  
Dai chuckled. The Mystic Ninjas'. I like that. She looked at Hwoarang. I don't want you to get the wrong impression about Jeremy. He's a good man, he's just...  
  
Hwoarang finished. Most fathers usually are.  
  
Dai smiled back at him. He understood.  
  
She pushed her raven locks from her face, blowing at the remaining strands. She turned on one heel to face Hwoarang, her coat swirling behind her.  
  
Sooo..where do you think Jin would be? she asked. He's got no family to go to, his only friend is terrified for, and possibly of him, and...ah, forget it.  
  
Hwoarang said, slightly puzzled. Giving up?  
  
Dai shrugged. There's no point trying to find Jin. The Mishima Ziabatsu has been looking for him for the past two years, and their resources far outweigh ours. He's not going to be in the city, because there's too many people about-  
  
-But he could get lost in the crowd, Hwoarang suggested. But then again, after what happened with his fight, he'll probably be trying to stay away from people...to protect them.  
  
Dai brushed Hwoarang's cheek. she said, Are smarter than you look.  
  
And you, he replied, mimicking her tone, Are lousy at giving compliments.  
  
Why, thank you, she grinned. He pulled her into a kiss, a sensation which still made her heart soar. As they walked out of the park, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Looking down, he kissed her affectionately on the top of her head.  
  
Let's check out a sports bar, see if they've got any tournament coverage, Hwoarang suggested. Maybe we can see if Kazuya Mishima won his bout.  
  
Oh, he'll have won it all right, she said darkly. I'd bet on it.  
  


*********  
  


_You'll find what you're looking for...or it'll find you.  
_  
Steve remembered those words, the goosebumps rising on his skin, and not just because of the cool hospital air. He sat next to the unconscious young woman, looking at her battered form. Barely any of her body had escaped the vicious onslaught of Jin Kazama, but she was recovering.  
  
They thought he knew her. She had his photo...and a letter.  
  
She was the assassin sent to kill him.  
  
That was disturbing enough, but she carried other documents which both appalled and elated Steve. Printouts of confidential data...  
  
At least half the puzzle of his parentage had been solved. That alone was cause for elation.  
His was appalled because _she hadn't known_. They had used her, as a guinea pig, as an incubator, then as a killer. From the dates on the documents he held now in his hands, he gathered that she had only discovered the truth herself the previous day.  
  
Despite the knowledge so recently acquired, was she still planning to kill him? Even though she was his mother? Over the years, Steve had run through many scenarios in his head, imagining what his reunion with his biological parents would be like. He could honestly say that none of them even remotely resembled the reality.  
  
The quiet of the hospital was interrupted by the sound of voices conversing softly, and the _click-click_ of heels in the adjacent corridor. Steve folded the paper before him, placing it carefully in the envelope. Should he hide? If the visitors were from the Mafia, they might try to kill him...or her, for her failure. He felt his mouth go dry.  
  
-Our Nina certainly doesn't seem t'be having the best run of luck, Doctor, a female voice said, with a slight Irish brogue. Y'think she's gonna be okay?  
  
Certainly, my dear, an elderly male voice replied, in a foreign accent. Russian, Steve thought, though he couldn't be sure. The voices were coming closer now...  
  
Hm. She shoulda got her mem'ry sorted out first, before entering the stupid tournament. T'last thing she needs is more kicks t'the head, the female chuckled darkly. Tell me, Doctor Boskonovitch-  
  
As they walked through the door into Nina's room, the elderly man found himself pinned against the wall by a single, but unyielding, hand. There was fear in his eyes...then recognition.  
  
You bastard! Steve spat. You...you're responsible for everything! You complete and utter-  
  
Steve gasped as his arm was grabbed and twisted behind him, soon followed by his other hand. He wasn't sure how she did it, but the woman, who he had failed to see through the red haze that had descended upon him, now had him in a hold where whichever way he turned, it hurt.  
  
Are y'gonna calm down, lad, or am I gonna haf't'hurtcha? she said, her tone horribly superior. He twisted his head slightly, glaring at her balefully.  
  
Well, you certainly are y'mother's son, she said. His eyes widened, then narrowed.  
  
Who the hell are you?  
  
The woman released him, and he rubbed his aching arms. He took a proper look at the woman, and saw that she now had gun trained on him. Her chestnut hair was cut into a blunt bob, and she had the slightly gangly, almost sharp features of a model. She smirked.  
  
Anna Williams, she announced. I'm your aunt.  
  
There was a moment of silence. The elderly man, Doctor Boskonovitch, took the opportunity to warily step back from the confrontation. For a moment, Steve forgot his anger and felt bad for manhandling such a frail old man.  
  
You know, I can't believe I actually _forgot_ what a bitch you are .  
  
The three turned to the source of the voice, but before another word could be said, a nurse entered the room.  
  
Everybody out, she said tartly. Visiting time is over.  
  
After a brief argument with the nurse, Nina's visitors left. As Steve left the room, he took one long look at his mother, and was surprised to find her looking back at him through bleary eyes, her face etched with an emotion he couldn't quite read.   
I'll be back tomorrow, he whispered. She moved her head slightly. A nod?  
  
After they had disappeared down the corridor, the nurse nodded to someone just outside of Nina's view.  
  
They're gone, she stated briskly. She's all yours.  
  
Nina felt a quick surge of adrenalin. Was the assassin to be assassinated?   
  
Her fears were allayed as Lei Wu Long entered the room, casually dressed. She wasn't sure who he was, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't kill her.  
  
Picking up Nina's medical notes, the man winced. She sure had received a beating.  
  
Long time, no see, Ms Williams, he said in English, his accent a curious mix of American and Cantonese. Although I've seen you look better. Still good for your age, though.   
  
She struggled through the tar pit of memory. She looked at him, imagined him younger, slimmer...  
  
I've felt better...officer?  
  
I received a letter yesterday, he said conversationally. Nina's eyes glittered. It told me you were hired by the Mafia; your job, I assume, was to kill the young man who has been sitting by your side, looking _concerned_, for the past six hours.  
  
Nina looked back at the ceiling, but said nothing.  
  
I had a bug planted in this room. He paused, awaiting a response. Nina snorted slightly.  
  
That's illegal, I believe, she said. Lei nodded.  
  
So's assassinating people, but there you go. My point is this; I have a lot of questions, but no answers. Why was young Mr Fox so angry at Doctor Boskonovitch? Why do you and your sister look exactly the same as the last time I saw you, twenty years ago? And why did your sister say she was Steve's aunt...how can that be, unless you're his mother?  
  
You're the detective. You figure it out. Nina turned her face away from the man, trying to summon up hostility towards him, but instead feeling that all the hatred she possessed had been spent. She heard him sigh.  
  
Look, Ms Williams-  
  
Miss, not Ms'...god, I hate it people say Ms'. It sounds like you've got a wasp shoved up your arse.  
  
Despite himself, Lei smiled slightly. Alright then, _Miss_ Williams. I have enough evidence to put you away for a very, _very_ long time.  
  
Nina glared at him. So, this way how it was going to be. She had just got her life back, with a few added extras, and now she was going to be locked up. The worst part of it was that she knew she had only herself to blame; in the past few amnesia stricken years, she had made mistakes that would make an amateur blush, usually caused by her heightened emotions. She thought she had managed to cover them up. Perhaps she was wrong...or perhaps he was bluffing.  
  
she said with a sarcasm she didn't feel. I hope your cuffs are big enough to go round this damn cast.  
  
Lei shrugged. The letter also said that we might be able to help one another. You could help me bring down the mob who are gunning for Steve, and possibly now you, and I...  
  
Lei had a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. I could lose' the evidence against you. Against the Syndicate, you'd be small fry anyway.  
  
Nina tensed slightly. Yes, she had got her memory back, but she wasn't the same person that had gone into that cryotube. As an amnesiac she had studied the facts of her life, every facet...and had found it somewhat lacking. Perhaps now she could start afresh...  
  
Lei smiled lopsidedly. Would it really be that bad to fight on the side of the angels for once?  
  
Nina closed her eyes, and made her decision.  
  
What do you want to know, she whispered.


	27. Chapter 27

You know - _umph_ - if I win, and you win - umph - we stand a good chance of fighting one another.  
  
Hwoarang recoiled as Dai landed another blow on the kick pad. The look of extreme concentration on her face was as nearly as intimidating as the black gi she now wore. There was no patterns, no adornments, but for some reason it made her look threatening.  
  
_In a cute way_, Hwoarang thought with grin.  
  
Dai paused, grabbing a towel. She seemed to think about Hwoarang's words.  
  
We're in the same tournament, she said. There's always been a good chance we'd end up fighting each other. She threw the towel on the floor and resumed battering the pad. Does that bother you?  
  
Yeah, a bit, Hwoarang conceded, before his expression turned sly. After all, how am I gonna kiss you if your face is all messed up?  
  
It took him a few seconds to realise that her expression had also changed to a mischievous smirk. She dropped low, sweeping Hwoarang's legs from under him, before nimbly spinning and landing astride him, pinning him to the ground.  
  
I'm sure we'd find a way, she purred. She raised an eyebrow. Aren't you even going to attempt to break free?  
  
Hwoarang's grin widened further. I'm happy where I am, thanks.  
  
Well, we'll just have- OWW!!  
  
Dai sprang off him, holding her head. Hwoarang sat up, wide eyed.  
  
Dai? What- oh.  
  
He flushed with embarrassment as he saw Mr Yamada standing with his arms folded, looking distinctly unimpressed. He held a metre-long wooden stick in one hand, and was currently tapping it against his shoulder.  
  
Um, we were just training, Yamada-san, Hwoarang said as innocently as possible. Dai carried on rubbing her skull.  
  
It doesn't matter how many times you hit me with that damn thing, I'm still not enlightened, she said. The spots in her vision were fading now.  
  
I thought it was Tetsuji that hit you over the head with a stick? Hwoarang said. Dai snickered.  
  
No, he hit me over the head with a bokken. He- she pointed at Mr Yamada, -He hit me over the head with a stick.  
  
She got hit over the head a lot as a child, Mr Yamada dead panned. Probably explains a lot now. Like how rolling around on my floor like a couple of rutting bears bears constitutes training. Dai, if you had been alert, you would have sensed my presence. Don't forget your training! And- OWW!  
  
Mr Yamada swung around to find his wife grinning at him, also holding a stick. Dai and Hwoarang began chuckling.  
  
There's an English phrase, she laughed, About pots and kettles! Mr Yamada held his hands up in mock defeat.  
  
Okay, I admit it. I just wanted to bash you around the head.  
  
Mmm. Understandable, Hwoarang nodded. Why bother with an excuse?  
Why not bash him? Dai said with mock indignation, pointing at Hwoarang, still on the floor.  
  
Because he's going to get battered enough by Mr Marduk, Reiko beamed. I'm preparing ice-packs as we speak.  
  
Ha ha. I'm laughing, Hwoarang said sardonically. No, really, I am-  
  
Don't worry, my boy, we have every faith that you will win, Mr Yamada stated. Just not without a battering.  
  
Hwoarang said wryly, whilst secretly acknowledging the likelihood that the statement was true. Well, if I get battered, Dai can do shiatsu on me again.  
  
The Yamadas looked at one another. Reiko's eyebrows raised slightly.  
  
Ah. Shiatsu'. Is that what you call it nowadays-  
  
I think we should go, Hwoarang, Dai said smiling. Before this turns into Carry On Dojo', or something.  
  
Hwoarang looked at her blankly.   
  
Never mind, she sighed. Time to head to the sports hall.  
  


********  


  
Jin lay in a foetal position, still shaking. His body hadn't stopped trembling since - when was it, yesterday? Jin didn't know. Fear and confusion wracked his body, along with sleep deprivation. He was chronically tired, but he couldn't, _wouldn't_ sleep, lest the strange madness that had taken him before took him again. In any case, he doubted that any dreams sleep would bring would be pleasant.  
  
_Probably better to stay awake...  
_  
He managed to roll onto his back, hands clutching at his head, clutching his ruffled hair, tugging it, sending tiny spikes of pain through his scalp. It helped him stay awake.  
  
It was warm in his ramshackle hut. An intense fire burnt, giving off a slightly acrid smell; the main fuel was one of Jin's gis. More precisely, the one that was covered in Nina William's blood.  
  
Part of him wanted to see her, to apologise, but what could he say? _Hey, sorry I nearly bludgeoned you to death, but it really wasn't me'_? Although she herself was apparently once a victim of mind-control; Ogre, Toshin, _whatever_ it was, sent her to kill Jin, and she had mindlessly obeyed his orders, until her intended target had freed her from that slavery, by defeating the monster.  
  
Jin moaned. He was chronically tired. What if that tiredness made him more susceptible? He didn't know for certain what he was fighting, but had ventured a guess. He suspected that his answer lay not in the world outside, but in his own blood.  
  
The Devil Gene.  
  
Over the two years since he had been on the run from the Mishima Ziabatsu, he had tried to learn as much as possible about his condition. The studies he had read weren't entirely helpful; other than knowing that the Devil Gene granted its possessor colossal power, they knew as much as he did - the origins of that power was a mystery. His misery had been increased by the knowledge that practically every bio-technical firm was after him, not just his grandfather.  
  
_Heihachi...grandfather...you taught me about betrayal. For your crimes, I will teach you about death.  
  
_Jin began to drift off into restless slumber.


	28. Chapter 28

Hey, Dai!  
  
Dai turned to the beaming American. All well with the bike, I hope?  
  
Paul Phoenix nodded, tightening a wrist guard. Not a scratch, just like you said. You kept your word, kid.  
  
She spread her arms, and bowed slightly. Of course.  
  
The sports hall was a bustling hive of activity, although the camera crews had less to do as much of their equipment had remained overnight. Also remaining was a disturbing reminder of the previous day's fight; they had removed the bloodstains from the waxed floor, but the splatters on the walls stubbornly remained.   
  
You catch the fight yesterday? Paul asked, cricking his neck.  
  
Yeah, on TV, Dai answered, removing her coat. She was, Hwoarang realised, wearing exactly the same clothes as on the night he first saw her in that Australian nightclub; black flares, black t-shirt with a sun logo...  
  
_Perhaps I should point it out,_ he wondered with a grin. _Girls love it when you remember that kind of stuff.  
  
_Hey, what's with your sidekick, Paul asked, chuckling. He's grinnin' like a Cheshire.  
  
Hwoarang, suddenly realising he was the current topic of conversation, started.   
  
He wants to know what's funny, Dai said in Korean, I'm intrigued, too.  
  
I do speak English! Hwoarang reminded her - in English. And my thoughts are my own. For now.  
  
Paul drawled. He decided to carry on with the previous conversation. Anyway, when I saw that Kazama kid beating the living hell outta Nina Williams, I was like, Woah! That kid's crazier than his old man! And his grandfather!' It must be genetic, or something.  
  
Yeah, must be, Dai replied quietly. She smirked slightly.  
  
Ready for a whuppin', old man? she asked, in a fair imitation of Paul's accent. He grinned.  
  
Not even on your best day, limey, he retorted.   
  
Hwoarang felt slightly apprehensive. He was certain that Phoenix wouldn't go over the top with brute force, but he knew that he wouldn't hold back, either. He had seen Dai fight against Steve Fox, knew what she was capable of. It hadn't taken her much effort to win that fight, and Hwoarang still felt a little uncomfortable thinking about it.  
  
But, on reflection, Dai had had the upper hand from the start; she was an unknown quantity, whereas Steve Fox's fights had been broadcast across the globe; she was a master of many varied arts, he was a boxer, and used to fighting other boxers exclusively. And, he was a bit squeamish about actually hitting a girl - that certainly wasn't something he had had to contend with in the professional boxing circuit.  
  
Paul, on the other hand, was a veteran of these sort of tournaments; he had fought against a myriad of opponents and their fighting styles, and he knew that the female contenders weren't fragile, delicate flowers. They were fighters, as lethal in their own way as he was in his.  
  
They walked to the centre of the hall, and bowed, before dropping into fighting stances.  
  
  
Paul went in straight away, skidding across the floor, aiming an extended elbow to Dai's ribs. She span out of the way, using the opportunity to land a spinning back kick into his side. He staggered slightly, and nodded. Taking a leaf out of her book, he waited for her to make the next move.  
  
He saw a slight twitch in her foot So she was going for a kick....  
  
She threw her leg towards him, but Paul deftly knocked it aside, knocking her off balance. Grabbing one of her flailing arms, he pulled her towards him and threw her over his shoulder. Dai landed with a thud, and a wince.  
  
And then a grin.  
  
Paul was still bent over from the throw, his arms entangled in hers whilst she lay on her back. Using her shoulders as a pivot, she rocked her legs in the air...and around her opponent's neck. As an automatic reflex, his hands grabbed her thighs, trying to release the choking pressure.  
  
It looks like some sort of bizarre sexual position, one onlooker commented. Hwoarang scowled at him.  
  
Do you mind? That's my girlfriend you're talking about.  
  
Lucky you, the other said.  
  
With her hands free, Dai tried to swing like a pendulum between Paul's legs, in an effort to pull him forward. He sensed her intentions, however, and managed to stand straight, despite the weight of Dai hanging from his neck.  
  
Using that same momentum, Dai did the mother of all stomach curls, throwing Paul onto his back. She let out a gasp as her knees impacted on the floor, and she rolled away.  
  
Paul choked, rubbing his throat, Did you learn that?  
  
Rocky IV, she answered. I think. The one with Dolph Lungdren.  
  
Rocky IV, Paul confirmed. But I don't remember seeing _that_.  
  
Err, I improvised a little, Dai conceded. It's the bit where Rocky's doing stomach crunches whilst hanging from a wooden beam.  
  
Paul said, regaining his wind. That movie sucked.  
  
Yes, it did, Dai chuckled. But I can still use it to kick your arse. But that's not saying much-  
  
Dai threw a side kick, followed by a knife-hand strike to the throat. It connected, but not as forcefully as she would have liked. Paul dropped low with a sweeping kick, taking her off her legs, and followed it with another sliding elbow. Her skidding journey across the waxed floor came to an abrupt halt as she slammed into a camera rig.  
  
Paul's jaw dropped as Dai sprang back up, apparently suffering no ill-effects from the torrent of abuse her body had just received. She tilted her head to one side slightly.  
  
Where was I? she asked ponderously, before breaking into a smirk. Oh, that's right...kicking your arse.  
  
Launching into a series of acrobatic spinning kicks, Paul dodged out of the way. Dai landed lightly, dropping into a low stance. Grinning, she launched another offensive; Paul parried, but couldn't get a blow of his own in.   
  
Seeing an opportunity, he grabbed Dai's arm, and rolled her onto the ground. Instinctively, he landed a blow on her face; first blood had been drawn.  
Hwoarang forced himself to remain calm. It was a futile effort, he knew, but was noble to try. The urge to charge into the ring and beat the hell out of the American was almost irresistible, but he knew that he owed it to Dai not to interfere in her fights.  
  
_Besides,_ he thought dryly, _I'll be the one who ends up being covered in ice-packs...  
  
_Dai stood up, still perfectly steady, and gave a respectful nod to her opponent. She pressed a finger against one nostril, and blew through the other, resulting in a disgusting mass of dark red slime, which she wiped and flicked on the floor. Paul cringed._  
  
_Kid...that's gross!  
  
she said, still smiling. A small but persistent trickle of blood tickled her upper lip.  
  
She avoided his blows, twisting and bending her body in a way that seemed to defy gravity.  
  
And then she struck.  
  
Usually, spinning back kicks are not recommended in fights against experienced opponents - they can see them coming from a mile away. But Dai was quick; so quick, that she appeared to Hwoarang to be a blur. She launched the kick solidly into Paul's torso, sending the man flying across the ring a good ten metres.  
  
Go, Dai! Hwoarang bellowed.  
  
Paul collapsed on the floor, and after a minute the announcer knelt by his side. Paul raised his head slightly, looking groggy, said something...and then the announcer nodded. He raised Dai's hand in victory.  
  
There was polite applause from the puzzled crowd; in some circles, Phoenix had been considered a sure-fire winner, not just of this fight, but of the entire tournament. After the beating he had handed out to Julia Chang, it surprised some to see him now slumped on the floor. After quickly embracing Hwoarang, Dai went to her beaten opponent.  
  
Hey, Paul! she said, looking at his glazed eyes. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Hey! Old timer!  
  
His eyes flickered, becoming more alert. Blinking a few times, like a man who had just woken from a deep sleep, he turned his head towards her, blanching at the effort. He attempted a lopsided smile.  
  
Are you sure...you're not...one of those Jack' cyborgs? he breathed heavily. Crap, I think you broke a rib...  
  
No, I feel fine, Dai said straight faced.   
  
I'm sure, he said, rolling his eyes. He felt his ribs gingerly, and hissed. Dai looked apologetic, and moved her hand to his side.  
  
Let's have a look-  
  
  
  
Don't be such a bloody puff, she chided.   
  
Hey kid, does your girl always feel up her opponents? Paul teased Hwoarang. Dai turned, noticing that his face was like a thundercloud, his arms folded in an obvious expression of displeasure.  
  
she chuckled. Good job I didn't kick you anywhere else!  
  
Paul shuffled into a more upright position, his eyes fully alert now. He moved his arms experimentally, and, seemingly satisfied, turned to Dai.  
  
I think I'm fine now, kid, he assured her. I think my body's gotten over the shock-  
  
Of being thrashed by a girl? a familiar, amused voice chimed in. Paul rolled his eyes.  
  
Hello, Marshall, he sighed, seeing his friend approach. At least I didn't get thrashed by a girl in the first round.  
  
Marshall Law grinned. Ha! I suppose I asked for that, he said good-naturedly. You know, we're getting too old for this.  
  
I could of told you that! Hwoarang smirked. Dai threw a frosty glare at him.  
  
It has been an honour to fight against you, Mr Phoenix, she said, genuine respect in her voice. She bowed deeply. Paul sighed.  
  
Same here, he said. Painful, but an honour...I think. Just go easy on the next guy, okay?  
  
She shot a look at Hwoarang and grinned. Depends who it is!


	29. Chapter 29

What?! What are you looking at?  
  
Dai sounded exasperated as she drove towards the coast. Hwoarang shrugged, then shot her a winning smile.  
  
'Cos you're so beautiful, he said, lacing his voice with saccharine. More beautiful than the blooming cherry blossoms.  
  
He struggled to keep a straight face as she shook her head, moaning. she said, Was the single weakest line I have ever heard you utter. Now do you want to tell me the real reason you've been looking at me like I've got three heads?  
  
Well, I _do_ like looking at you, he said, his face earnest. It was true, after all. Dai blushed, and her eyes on the road.  
  
I'm also marvelling at the fact no-one would ever guess that you nearly had your nose broken less than an hour ago, he added. That admission was less romantic, but just as true. I mean no bruising, no more blood-  
  
I'd bloody guess! Dai exclaimed. I feel like I've got a flipping badger stuck up my nasal cavity. I'm just fortunate that I don't bruise easily...unlike more delicate, _fragile_ people that I know.  
  
Hwoarang said. It was his fight next, against Craig Marduk. He was certain that he would win - he always won, unless he was fighting Kazama...and _that_ would change this tournament. But despite his confidence, he knew that his opponent was brutal, and almost inhumanly strong. He _would_ get hurt. He frowned.  
  
What now? Dai asked, seeing his expression.  
  
Why is it, he began, That I have to fight psychopaths like Brian Fury and Craig Marduk, whereas you get to fight guys like Steve Fox and Paul Phoenix?  
  
What's _that_ supposed to mean? Dai chuckled. You think that they're lesser opponents than you've faced, just because they're sane? Hwoarang, Steve is a world champion of boxing, and Paul has nearly won this tournament three times - technically, this is his first loss!  
  
I'm not trying to run you down, Hwoarang said defensively. Dai chuckled again.  
  
I know, I know. But what I'm trying to do is remind you that everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. She smiled slyly. I mean, look at you. You're as weak as a kitten, but somehow you still manage to win...  
  
Hwoarang glared at her, then folded his arms in a sulk.  
  
Is that...is that really what you think of me? he asked quietly, and in perfect seriousness. Dai looked dismayed, hearing sadness rather than the usual surliness in his voice. She pulled the car over, and stopped the engine.  
  
Hwoarang, I was joking, she explained. He remained silent, avoiding her eyes. Exasperated, she unbuckled herself, and leant over to him. He carried on looking out of his window.  
  
You didn't answer the question, he said. She rolled her eyes.  
  
She pulled herself out of the driver's seat and into Hwoarang's lap. Placing a hand on both sides of his face, she turned his head towards her...and saw the hurt in his eyes.  
  
She kissed him softly. No, Hwoarang, I don't think you're weak. I think that you're an awesome fighter...and also that you're funny, and smart, and absolutely gorgeous. And, she said quietly. I love you.  
  
Hwoarang's eyes widened. He had felt it, suspected it...but it was still a surprise to hear her say it. Wrapping his arms around her, he smiled.   
  
Well...are you going to say anything? she asked expectantly.  
  
  
  
Um'? _ she laughed playfully. He loved that laugh. I pour out my heart and soul, declare my undying love, and you say   
  
Hwoarang broke into a grin. Sorry, I was just focussing on the funny', smart' and gorgeous' bit...  
  
  
  
Dai propelled herself back into the driver's seat, frowning. Trying to frown, anyway...and trying not to laugh. Eventually the effort was too great, and she burst into hysterics.  
  
That's right, she said, wiping away a tear. I forgot   
  
Hwoarang shook his head, still smirking. Just drive.  
  
As Dai pulled out she glanced at the man who had come to mean so much to her. His posture and expression suggested someone who was completely at ease, as his arm rested on the open window, the wind flicking his scarlet locks away from his face. His eyes, however, told a different story, and were still troubled. Dai wondered if she should just leave the subject alone, but as Jeremy had often commented, she frequently went where angels fear to tread.  
  
So, are you going to tell me about it?  
  
Hwoarang looked startled.   
  
About why you went funny about my stupid joke. You're usually pretty thick skinned. Thick skinned, thick skulled... She smiled. I would go on, but I'd probably offend you again.  
  
Hwoarang shifted in his seat, and the expression on his face went from anger to resignation, via exasperation.  
  
It's just stuff I've been thinking about. If I'd been stronger, maybe I could have helped Baek somehow, stopped Ogre.  
  
Dai's expression was pained. Were you there?  
  
Hwoarang's expression soured. No. But I should have been.  
  
So you could die with him?  
  
Hwoarang looked shocked. So I could __save_ him.  
  
Dai sighed. Hwoarang, there's nothing you could have done-  
  
You don't know that! he said angrily. He calmed himself.   
  
Do you have any idea how many people have lost their lives to Toshin over the years? Thousands, Hwoarang, _thousands_. Dai looked grim. But those were the lucky ones. The unlucky ones had their very essences absorbed-  
  
Is this meant to make me feel better? Hwoarang asked incredulously. Knowing that the man who was like a father to me is now part of some monster for all eternity?  
  
I hadn't finished, Dai said quietly. And sometimes, you do have to hear things which are harrowing - believe me, I know.   
  
Toshin was defeated, but not permanently. I don't think Ogre can ever be killed - it's a being so utterly beyond our comprehension, I doubt we'll ever know the full truth behind its existence. But, Dai said, cutting Hwoarang off before he could speak, It's different in every incarnation, both in chosen form and fighting style. And, our research shows that with each resurrection the creature chooses great warriors and fighters as its initial kills. What does that tell you?  
  
Hwoarang pondered the question. He hoped that it meant what he thought it did...  
  
That every time Ogre's defeated, it releases the souls it has captured?  
  
Dai nodded. That was our conclusion. And that every time it's reborn, it requires a new slew of fighters to make itself complete.  
  
Hwoarang sat in silence sombrely, before speaking again.  
  
I guess I owe Kazama, then, if he freed Baek. He was the only one who could defeat it.  
  
He has the Devil Gene, Dai said. Then she added thoughtfully, But I've often wondered if the souls Ogre had captured had any form of resistance. After all, his mother's spirit was in there somewhere - maybe she could have held the beast back.  
  
His mother? Hwoarang inquired curiously. Dai looked at him, slightly exasperated.  
  
His mother, Jun Kazama. Consumed by Ogre when he was fifteen. She sighed. Do you ever do any research into your opponents?  
  
I usually find beating them sufficient, he said, although the comment lacked its usual bravado. Dai pulled the car over in the allotted parking area. Despite the overcast sky and sharp winds, there was still a sizable crowd gathered on the beach. It was early in the year, and late in the afternoon, but Hwoarang was fairly certain that the chill down his spine had nothing to do with the weather.  
  
So let me get the straight, he said. Kazama's mother was killed by Ogre, his father and grandfather have spent the best part of their lives trying to kill one another, and he's got a genetic quirk which means that a lot of people are after him, to use him as source material for a weapon?  
  
That's about it, Dai confirmed, getting out of the car. Oh, but there is another thing.  
  
Which is?  
  
Heihachi shot him. In the head. After the Tekkenshu emptied several machine gun rounds into him, that is.  
  
....Wow. No wonder he's pissed off, Hwoarang muttered. You know, every time I learn something new about the Mishimas...I wish I hadn't.  
  



	30. Chapter 30

Jin woke with a start. Looking around, his panic soon receded; everything seemed exactly the same as when he had fallen asleep, and there was no blood anywhere. He checked the small digital clock in his holdall; a few hours had passed, no more.  
  
He slumped onto the makeshift bed, sighing with relief. As he pulled some fresher clothes out of his holdall, his eyes fell on some photographs that were at the bottom of the bag, carefully wrapped in clear plastic. Still lying on his back, he abandoned the clothes in favour of the pictures.  
  
_I don't know why I keep these,_ he thought bitterly. _They either remind me of what I've lost, or what I can't have.  
  
_Looking at them, he knew why he kept them. They reminded him of better times, and despite everything, gave him hope. There he was with his mother, when he was ten years old; he was grinning, and she was wearing her familiar gentle smile, her gaze directed towards him with maternal pride.  
  
Another photo; he was older this time, crouched on the roof of their home. He was fixing the roof, he remembered. His mother's pose was full of movement; she had set the timer on the camera, and had been in the process of positioning herself for the shot.   
  
Later that day, she had told him about his father.  
  
Those were the only photos that survived the attack by Ogre. But he had others, new memories...there was one of him and Ling. She had insisted that he had a copy, and now he was glad of that. There they both were, in their Mishima College uniforms; he was looking bemused, maybe slightly alarmed, and she was grinning, blushing furiously with one arm flung around his neck, and the other raised in a victory salute. She had pounced on him, he remembered with a smile, whilst her friend was armed with a Polaroid camera.  
  
Going to the college had certainly been something new for Jin; for most of his life he had lived in almost total isolation with only his mother, and occasionally other wildlife protection officers. The experience of having hoards of teenage girls lusting after him was a new, bewildering, but not entirely unpleasant experience. Ling had always been particularly bold, in a shy sort of way, if that was possible. Her irrepressible love of life was almost catching; it was only now he realised how much she helped him remain the sort of person his mother would have wanted to be, rather than the person Heihachi was trying to mould him into.  
  
_Ling, I never realised how much I would miss you. I never knew.  
  
_Was she safe? She had been knocked out of the tournament by King, but he had no idea what happened to her after that. He hoped that Heihachi was just leave her alone; surely she didn't possess any knowledge that Heihachi thought was worth killing her for...but then again, Heihachi never had any moral compunction about killing _anybody. _Jin fought down the venomous bile that nearly always accompanied thoughts of his grandfather.  
  
Putting the photo carefully to the side, he pulled on his clothes; this time he was wearing a fairly anonymous looking hooded sweatshirt and a pair of baggy trousers. A trip to the city was in order; he had to restock his dwindling food supplies, and perhaps find out if the next rounds had been announced.  
  
He had contemplated quitting the tournament, but something told him that he had to see it through to the end. If he didn't act now, how much more damage could the Mishimas wreak upon the world? And he would forever be hiding, forever be running, both from his family...and himself. Perhaps if he gained control of the Ziabatsu, he could use its vast resources to see if there was a cure for the Devil Gene, a way to purge it from his body.   
  
Looking at his photos, his determination was strengthened. He had to hope...  
  
  


********  
  


Kazuya woke drowsily, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. A sense of wretchedness wracked his body, and his arm and shoulder muscles were protesting in a manner he hadn't experienced since he was very young. His whole body was heavy, and it was a strain to lift his head.  
  
He struggled to remember how he got here, before the answer flooded his mind. The Tekkenshu, the mercenary task force established and commanded by his father, had pumped him full of tranquilliser darts, and obviously brought him here...wherever here' was.  
  
A sense of recognition made Kazuya's spine tingle. He was suspended by chains in a large wood panelled room, decorated by serene statues of Buddhist figures. The sight and smell of the room brought a whole deluge of memories into Kazuya's mind; his father, teaching him how to break boards, sparring with his adopted brother, Lee, and defeating him every time...yet it was never good enough for Heihachi. _He_ was never good enough.  
  
With effort, he pulled at the chains that imprisoned him. He could see the manacles had some sort of electronics built in, with an LED blinking steadily. He rattled the chains a bit more-  
  
I'd save your energy, boy...you'll need it.   
  
Kazuya looked down and forced his eyes to focus. They narrowed at the speaker came into view.  
  
he sneered. Your taste in laboratory decor has changed since you were in my employ.  
  
The elderly doctor laughed, a hideous, phlegmy cackle that set Kazuya's teeth on edge. So, his father wasn't going to try and kill him yet...he was going to try and unlock the secrets of his DNA. As the doctor opened a panel in the wall, revealing a sophisticated analysis computer, Kazuya felt himself smirk. Heihachi's arrogance would cost him dearly.  
  
Well, doctor, he said sardonically. What's the verdict?  
  
The doctor was cursing under his breath, his knuckles whitened. He spun sharply, glaring at the shackled man, but remained silent.  
  
You do realise, of course, Kazuya began quite conversationally, That the Devil Gene' is notoriously difficult to study? It's quite unstable and almost impossible to isolate without the proper knowledge. But of course, you have that, don't you?  
  
_Of course you don't,_ Kazuya thought with a sneer. _G-Corp managed to destroy most of the files during my father's raid, while I kept the Tekkenshu busy.  
  
_Kazuya's smugness was somewhat diminished when Abel stuck a syringe in his ankle; despite his best efforts, he could only manage a gentle swinging motion, rather than the swift kick he was planning. He struggled to control his impotent fury as the mad doctor filled the syringe with crimson._  
  
_You do realise, of course, Abel said, matching Kazuya's tone, That your much vaunted power is rendered useless by your restraints? He gave a condescending laugh. But of course you do.  
  
You think chains and toys can hold me? Kazuya sneered. Abel's confidence seemed to falter, but he managed a humourless smile, taking more of the captive's blood.  
  
We learnt enough from G-Corp's research to create your restraints. They possess electrical pulses that counteract your Devil Gene', preventing you from accessing your enhanced abilities. No, little Mishima, Abel taunted. You're not going anywhere. Doctor's orders.  
  
Abel congratulated himself on his wit as he placed one vial of Kazuya's blood in the analysis machine. The remaining vials were placed in a small grey case, obviously to be taken to another lab.  
  
When break free of these..._toys_, Kazuya said with disgust, I'm going to take a great deal of pleasure in killing you.  
  
Abel chuckled darkly. But first, you have to break free.  
  
The doctor tapped something into the computer, and it disappeared behind a panel. Kazuya felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him...then he felt nothing.


	31. Chapter 31

As Hwoarang was tossed along the beach front like a rag doll, he found many odd thoughts passing through his mind; what did Craig Marduk's mother feed her boy? Why did Marduk insist on wearing that ridiculous day-glo spandex? And why oh why did the tournament committee think that it was really a good idea to fight on a beach, in the late afternoon...in the _winter_?   
  
_Perseverance...indomitable spirit..._Baek's teachings came easily to him as he sprang to his feet. Marduk was strong, but he was slow. He also had one hell of a temper. _ A weakness to be exploited? _Hwoarang wondered, remembering his conversation with Dai. Hwoarang's expression settled into a satisfied smirk as he eyed Christie Monterio. In a bizarre twist, she had apparently taken to travelling with the brute, and was currently cheering him on.  
  
Hey, Marduk, Hwoarang grinned, Which whorehouse did you pick your girlfriend up from?  
  
The vale tudo champion went from being merely pathologically aggressive to potentially murderous. He lunged at Hwoarang in a raw display of power, possessed by an unthinking rage...exactly as Hwoarang had hoped. He leaped high, and then came down, landing on the small of his opponent's back with both feet. Marduk stumbled, winded and in pain. It did nothing to lessen his anger, and everything to increase it.  
  
Hwoarang landed a few well placed kicks to Marduk's torso, but backed off when he saw that the colossus was regaining his wind. He folded his arms, noticing from the corner of his eye that Dai was watching with an amused smile. _Now what?_ her pose seemed to ask. Again, Hwoarang grinned.  
  
Hey Marduk, he began. I heard you were in jail recently. Anyone call you Nancy' while you bent over and took it?  
  
Dai stifled a laugh as veins she didn't know existed popped on Marduk's head. She thought he could get any angrier. She was wrong.  
  
I'M GONNA BREAK YOUR FACE!  
  
With an inhuman bellow, he launched at Hwoarang, who stood there. And carried on standing there...  
  
_Move you idiot,_ she cursed him mentally.  
  
He was bowled over by the monolith, but was not unprepared. As Marduk wrestled him to the ground, he used his powerful legs, combined with his opponent's own momentum, to roll them over again. He was on top now, with his hands clutching Marduk's windpipe. The announcer eventually motioned for him to stand, which he did.  
  
As did Marduk.  
  
Hwoarang shook his head as Marduk lunged at him groggily. A powerful wheel kick broke his opponent's jaw...and finally knocked him senseless.  
  
Christie rushed over to Marduk as Hwoarang's arm was raised in victory. Dai ambled over to him, still laughing.  
  
I don't think there's a word in Korean, English or Japanese that describes how reckless you just were, she chuckled. In fact, do you know what it reminded me of?  
  
Surprise me, he said, still breathing heavily.  
  
A bullfight. You know, like they have in Spain?  
  
Hwoarang grinned. I'd say that the average bull is smarter than Mr Marduk, though.  
  
The announcer was conversing with another official, who in turn was speaking into a phone. Marduk, on the other hand, was sulking whilst Christie brushed sand off of his close shaven head, trying to console him. _Rather unsuccessfully, by the look of it, _Dai thought with a grin.  
  
You know, I had no idea your grasp of English was so...colourful, she chuckled. I particularly liked the use of the term   
  
Baek was really good at English, Hwoarang smiled. He started teaching me when I was a kid. Although, he said wryly, I don't think unleashing rampant abuse was what he had in mind. That I learnt from old Jerry Springer reruns.  
  
They show those in Korea? Dai laughed. Hwoarang nodded, laughing himself.  
  
Of course! We're cultured! It was even subtitled, not dubbed! And then, switching from Korean to English, in an astounding imitation of a Texan drawl- Ah ain't trashy, Ah'm classy!  
  
Dai laughed so hard that she was finding it hard to breathe. Some of the crowd turned to see what the commotion was, and in response, Hwoarang shrugged. Hey, I'm a funny guy.  
  
Suddenly the atmosphere tensed, and the announcer motioned for quiet. The crowd duly obliged, eager to hear where, when and what the next round would be. No-one noticed or cared that Marduk and Christie were leaving.  
  
Ladies and gentlemen! the announcer cried. We are pleased to announce the next rounds, as we draw ever closer to the final, against the legendary Heihachi Mishima!  
  
The crowd dutifully whooped and clapped.  
  
Tomorrow will be the original champion from very first The King of Iron Fist, Kazuya Mishima, versus the Blood Talon, Hwoarang!  
  
Hwoarang nodded. Bring it.  
  
Also tomorrow, the ferocious blossom, Dai Martin, against last year's champion, Jin Kazama!  
  
Ferocious blossom'? Dai muttered in disbelief. That was the best they could up with?  
  
Both fights will take place in the Hotel Oban. Tickets are limited-  
  
_Ferocious blossom? _ How come you get Blood Talon', and I get lumbered with ferocious blossom?!'   
  
Hwoarang kept a straight face, although it was difficult given Dai's indignation. I agree, they could have done better. How about...vicious pot plant?  
  
Dai pointed at Hwoarang. You...watch yourself, otherwise, when we get back, I'm going to stick an ice pack where the sun doesn't shine.  
  
Hwoarang queried with a grin. Dai gave a dismissive wave of her hand. He looked thoughtful. Okay...how about...ruthless flower?  
  
Hell, I would have taken that over ferocious blossom', Dai said, finally laughing. Heihachi really needs to hire better guys. Or pay the existing ones more.  
  
As they walked to the car, Dai noticed that Hwoarang was uncharacteristically quiet, especially considering that he had just won. She smiled as they climbed in; they had only known each other a matter of weeks, but she could already guess what he was thinking at almost any given time. He sat there, pulling his hair back.  
  
Hey, I think I can nearly tie it back, he said, making a tiny ponytail. Dai brushed a few stray hairs away from his eyes.  
  
So...are you hoping that I'll win or lose tomorrow, she said, a note of teasing in her voice. Hwoarang looked guilty.  
  
Win, of course, he said, a little too quickly. Dai laughed, and stroked his cheek fondly.  
  
Okay, so it wouldn't bother you in the slightest if I beat Jin Kazama, the guy _you've_ been waiting to fight for the past two years. And if you beat Kazuya-  
  
  
  
If you beat Kazuya, she continued. You'd then have to fight me.  
  
You can handle yourself, he said. He patted her head in mock condescension. And I'll go easy on you.  
  
she said. That's not answering the question.  
  
I want you to be happy-  
  
But you're torn, she said. Because you want to fight Jin, and you don't want to fight me, but you want me to be successful because you think that that is what _I_ want.  
  
Hwoarang admitted. Don't take it the wrong way-  
  
Dai silenced him by landing a kiss on him. He reciprocated, appreciating the change in subject.  
  
he began uncertainly, one brow raised, Does this mean you're not going to do unspeakable things with ice packs?  
  
Oh, I wouldn't say that, she replied primly, starting the car. I'm not mad at you for thinking those things, but I _am_ a little hurt that you felt you couldn't be honest with me.  
  
What was I supposed to say? Hey, I hope you fall flat on your face tomorrow'?  
  
Dai looked horrified. Flat on my face'? she began angrily. _You want your own girlfriend to fall flat on her face?!_  
  
I meant-   
  
He stopped when he realised that Dai was wearing a huge grin. She pulled out of the car park, wondering if tormenting the man she loved would ever get boring.


	32. Chapter 32

Dai lay back, her laptop computer illuminating her face, studiously typing a report for her superiors. She exhaled heavily, and groaned.  
  
I hate paperwork, she muttered to herself. I don't care if it's on computer, or quite literally on paper. I hate it.  
  
Hwoarang grinned. Sorry I didn't give you more work in the ice pack department.  
  
He had come out of his bout with Craig Marduk remarkably unscathed. An odd bruise here and there, particularly on his ribs, but otherwise he was fine. The sandy beach had been a boon, in many ways; being slammed onto sand was nowhere near as painful as on concrete. In other ways, it had been very, _very_ annoying...  
  
Got rid of all the sand? Dai inquired with infuriating politeness. Hwoarang pushed her feet off the futon, giving himself room to sit. Once he had positioned himself, she swung her feet back up, onto his lap.  
  
Just about, he said. That stuff gets everywhere.  
  
Which reminds me, you're cleaning the inside of Reiko's car tomorrow, she chuckled. I think you brought most of the beach back with you.  
  
He leant towards her, trying to glimpse the screen. Report? I bet you're playing Tetris, or something.  
  
Dai carried on tapping away. Tetris? I'm more of a Columns girl, she smiled. It's just a general report on the progress of my mission.  
  
  
  
she said wryly, still typing. Why do I feel that this is going to be an awkward question?  
  
What are you going to do about Kazama if you beat him?  
  
I...I should plant a tracker on him during the fight, then, away from the cameras, follow him, subdue and detain him.  
  
But you could do that regardless of whether you win or lose, Hwoarang said grimly. Dai sighed, and nodded.  
  
Yes. That was the whole point of me entering the tournament. Get to Jin Kazama, ask him to come with me... She shrugged. After his fight with Nina Williams, that was changed to detain, regardless of consent'. He's considered too dangerous now.  
  
You don't agree? Hwoarang asked, surprised. He's gone nuts, schizophrenic or something, and possesses the power to survive a bullet to the head. If I didn't know how a good fighter you were, I'd be really worried. He scratched his neck awkwardly. I still am. A bit.  
  
Dai looked grim. Touching, but I'm more worried about _you_. You've got to fight Kazuya tomorrow - he's got the Devil Gene _and_ the will to use it. She stopped typing. Even if I capture Jin, or even if he comes willingly, as I suspect he would, there's still Kazuya to contend with; if he wins the tournament, he'll be able to harness the Ziabatsu's vast resources, to learn how to utilise the Devil Gene more efficiently. That knowledge in the wrong hands... She shuddered. Or, he may be captured by Heihachi. Repeat the previous scenario, multiply the consequences a thousandfold.  
  
So, in short, you've really got to capture both of them, Hwoarang said. You want me to plant a tracer on Kazama's old man?  
  
Dai looked shocked. Hwoarang, I couldn't ask you to-  
  
You didn't ask, I offered, he said cheerfully. You can tell Jeremy that I actually did something useful.  
  
She raised a brow, smiling. You do other useful things, she said.  
  
Yeah, but I'm kind of hoping that you don't put those in the report, he said grinning. Back to business-  
  
Yes...what do you think, Reiko?  
  
Hwoarang felt pride as he actually managed to refrain from jumping at the unexpected presence. Reiko gave a respectful bow, grinning, before her expression turned more serious.  
  
It's a plan. We could capture Kazuya after his fight with Hwoarang tomorrow, while you deal with Jin Kazama, she said thoughtfully. But have you even decided how to deal' with young Mr Kazama?  
  
Dai glanced at Hwoarang. I have to do my duty, complete the mission. I can't let Jeremy down. Jin...Jin is dangerous now, she added, almost sadly, Hwoarang thought.  
  
Well, you've got the night to decide, Reiko said. Choose wisely.  
  
As Reiko left the room, Dai rubbed her eyes. She emphatically hit the send' button, and slapped the computer shut.  
  
I'm going to bed, she yawned. Then, she added softly, I have a lot to decide.  
  
Hwoarang kissed her good night, and was then left alone with his thoughts.  
  


********  


  
_A dream or a memory?  
  
Dai sat outside the room, swinging her legs as she sat on the chair, only just scuffing the floor. She had always been small. The nurses were looking at her funny; something was wrong, desperately wrong, but she didn't want to admit it. She wanted to stay in her childhood realm of denial.  
  
Kira, you have to tell her, Uncle Jeremy was saying. There isn't...there's not...  
  
I know Jeremy. There's isn't much time. But...ah...  
  
Reiko's concerned voice entered the fray, her Japanese toned English a contrast to the native accents.  
  
I'm okay, her mother's voice responded, rasping with pain. She knew her mother was in pain, even though she tried to hide it. Where is she?  
  
Outside in the corridor, sleeping, Reiko said, proving that ninja's weren't omniscient. She hesitated, before continuing. Jeremy's right. She's got to know one day...isn't it best that it comes from you?  
  
...Yes. Yes, her mother sighed. She sighed a lot since she was taken ill. She has to know. Can you bring her in?  
  
Dai resumed her sleeping' position, yawning as Uncle Jeremy gently shook her awake. She felt sick in her stomach. Her teachers had often commented what a perceptive child she was, but now she felt it was a curse rather than a blessing. Jeremy led her into her mother's room.  
  
Suddenly Dai couldn't stand it. Her mother's pale, gaunt face, wracked with pain; the constant, clinical smell; the pitying looks from the nurses-  
  
The knowledge that her mother was dying.   
  
As Uncle Jeremy, Reiko and sensei left the room - she didn't realise sensei was here - she sat in the chair next to her mother's bed, and rested her head on its edge. Slowly, the tears came._  
  
_Dai, sweetheart, don't cry. Please....  
  
Then don't go mommy. Don't die, she blurted, verbally acknowledging the truth. Now she waited for her mother's denial, waited for her to tell her that everything was going to be alright.  
  
Instead, her mother remained silent, her own tears running down that face that had once been so beautiful, so full of the love of life...now it was pale, and wore an expression that wished for release.  
  
I don't want to, believe me. Be brave. Jeremy will take good care of you, her mother sobbed.  
  
  
  
There's...something I have to tell you....  
  
_Hey...hey, Dai.  
  
Dai woke, sobbing, a wet patch staining her pillow where her tears had fallen. Hwoarang, dressed in a pair of track bottoms, sat over her, gently stroking her bare arm, looking concerned and confused.  
  
I could hear you crying from across the hall, he explained softly. You were having a nightmare, or something...  
  
Dai mumbled an apology, trying to compose herself. So far, the effort was proving to be fruitless. Hwoarang saw this, but didn't press her for details, for which she was extremely grateful. He lay down next to her, taking her in his arms. He kissed her on the head, quietly whispering reassuring words. Despite her current emotional state, she almost felt like laughing; Hwoarang had a reputation for being brash, cocky, and tactless, yet she knew that when it was necessary, he could be as soft as a marshmallow. She wondered how many others had seen this side of him...she had a feeling that she was alone in this privilege. She snuggled up to him, eventually falling asleep.


	33. Chapter 33

Jin woke up, and for once felt strangely good. For the first time in two years he felt...clean. He couldn't explain it, but it was like when his mother was alive. The fury and resentment that had been eating him was still there, but it was controllable. He looked at his small collection of photos and smiled. The expression felt strange.  
  
He began dressing for his fight, an overwhelming sense of curiosity sweeping over him. He was certain that he wasn't going to lose control to the Devil Gene in his blood, was certain that he hadn't lost control while he had slept. There was still a concern that perhaps this was only temporary- l_ike a cancer going into remission_, he thought - but he decided to appreciate the new day for as long as he could.  
  
He stretched, then bowed towards the rising sun. He had gone into the city the previous night, and had received the odd fearful glance, but in general he went unrecognised. As he had passed loud sports bars, he had seen snippets of that day's fights; Hwoarang had put in a particularly good show against Marduk, it seemed. Jin idly wondered exactly what the Korean had said to the vale tudo fighter to so enrage him. In the other fight, the English girl had defeated Paul Phoenix. It had surprised him, he was ashamed to admit, that such a frail looking girl had defeated the American veteran...and fairly comfortably too.  
  
The hairs stood on the back of his neck as he remembered it, although he didn't know why. He had to face this girl today, this Dai Martin. He felt vaguely regretful that his opponent wasn't Hwoarang; the Korean Tae Kwon Do master was eager to face him, he knew that. He would have enjoyed fighting such a skilled opponent, and he rather hoped that Hwoarang would survive his encounter with Kazuya Mishima. Maybe Hwoarang could actually beat him...  
  
Slinging his holdall over his shoulder, he started to head out of the forest. He wondered wistfully if Ling would attend any of the fights today.  
  


********  
  


The Hotel Oban was as extravagant and luxurious as ever. The audience was of a decidedly different calibre to those that attended the bouts held in the streets and the underground fight clubs; gold, platinum and diamonds dripped off every finger, hung around every neck, sometimes partly hidden by expensive designer garments. Jin smiled to himself; no, only the packaging was different...the contents remained the same. The crowd had exactly the same blood lust and voyeuristic desires as those that attended the less salubrious venues.  
  
Jin eyed his opponent; she looked even more petite than she had on the giant screens of the sports bar, but he could somehow sense the strength she possessed. Standing with her was Hwoarang, who shot him the occasional glare. For the most part, though, he was engaged in deep conversation with the girl. He stroked her cheek tenderly, and Jin felt a pang of envy; he wished, not for the first time, and probably not for the last, that Ling could be there with him.  
  
_Don't wish for the impossible.  
  
_He sighed, pulling his sparring mitt on, then smoothing his gi. Feeling a strange tingling sensation, he glanced at his opponent. She was staring right back, wearing an inscrutable expression. She held his gaze for a moment, before returning her attention to Hwoarang.  
  
  
I'll be fine, Hwoarang, Dai insisted. Hwoarang shuffled nervously, and placed his hands on her shoulders.  
  
You ready? Even you think he's gone nuts, and you can't handle him-  
  
You'll have already entered the fray a few minutes earlier, she said, sounding amused.  
  
I'm serious, okay? Hwoarang said earnestly. Got the tracer?  
  
she said, patting her pocket. Got yours?  
  
He nodded. We're gonna catch us some Mishimas, he smirked. Why couldn't you take up a nice hobby, like insect collecting.  
  
The announcer began talking; thankfully, he didn't refer to her as ferocious blossom' again. Hwoarang impulsively pulled her into an embrace, not caring who saw. She gently disengaged.  
  
I've got to go, she said. I love you.  
  
  
  
She grinned and rolled her eyes, and trotted quite merrily to face Jin Kazama. Hwoarang realised that he had never felt so nervous in his entire life. Of course, he wasn't about to share that fact with anybody. He was lost in his thoughts when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.  
  
Hey kid, a familiar American drawl sounded. She nervous?  
  
Hwoarang turned to Paul. Doesn't seem to be. She should be.  
  
Paul nodded. You can say that again, he agreed, easing himself against the wall. He was obviously still feeling rather delicate....although having seen the beating Dai gave him, Hwoarang would have expected him to be much worse. The bell rang, and Paul nodded. Time to see if she's gonna take my advice about going easy on the next guy.  
  
  
Jin was surprised when Dai bowed before falling back into a loose fighting stance. He returned the courtesy, before falling into his own favoured stance. She nodded, and they began.  
  
She was fast...very fast, Jin soon acknowledged. She was also very perceptive; it was almost uncanny the way she counter-attacked his every move. It was obvious that she had studied traditional karate to some degree, even if she wasn't using it, and that she was also familiar with his own attack patterns. After five exhausting minutes of skilful exchanges, Jin backed off, and nodded respectfully, before resuming.   
  
  
I think Kazama may have met his match, Paul said, sounding slightly awed. He looked at Hwoarang. You still denying that she's your girl?  
  
Hwoarang smiled. She wasn't, but now she is.  
  
A word of advice, Paul said. Remember, hell hath no fury', etcetera.  
  
Hwoarang asked, turning to Paul. The American grinned lopsidedly.  
  
Basically, kid...there's one lady you _do not_ want to piss off. Then, as if talking from experience, he added solemnly, Remember her birthday. And your anniversary.  
  
Hwoarang nodded, watching the fight.  
  
  
His kick had thrown her high into the air, and he had planned a forceful kick for her descent. However, she didn't descend, and Jin had to marvel at her quick wittedness as she had grabbed the chandelier, sending the odd crystal falling to the ground. That didn't matter; his grandfather could more than afford to repair any of the damage inflicted any of the venues.   
  
The girl now hung upside down, legs entwined in the fixture, her raven hair swaying as she threw her weight towards him. Not expecting this attack, Jin received a flurry of blows to his unguarded face, which ceased as momentum swung her away from him. She flipped off the chandelier in acrobatic fashion, dropping into a low stance. As Jin settled into a defensive stance, ignoring his bleeding nose, he saw that his opponent wore an odd expression. She looked...unhappy, Jin decided. He couldn't think why; she doing better than he was at the present moment.   
  
Jin went on the attack, trying to wear down her defences with a series of kicks and punches. Then...she made a mistake.  
  
He saw her punch coming from a mile off; all her previous movements had been tight, precise - he hadn't known what she had planned until halfway through he move. But now her fist was heading his way, sign posted by excess movement. He wondered how such a skilled fighter could have made such a casual mistake.  
  
He caught her arm, twisted it, and wrestled her to the ground. He increased his pressure as she resisted, still remaining partially upright through what should have been crippling pain. Despite that, she looked at him...and spoke.  
  
she said Japanese, as if it was her mother tongue, Fight Hwoarang - win, lose, it doesn't matter. But for the sake of the world, _don't go to Heihachi Mishima!_  
  
Then he felt her suddenly drop all resistance, and he landed on top of her heavily, still twisting her arm. Jin thought he heard something pop, and climbed off her quickly. She wasn't moving.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Paul Phoenix restraining Hwoarang, who obviously wanted to run to the fallen woman. The announcer counted her out, and raised Jin's arm in victory. Jin pulled away and went to his opponent, who was now being tended to by a medic. As he approached, the medic looked up, fear and anger in his eyes.  
  
You've won! Leave her alone! he said shakily. You've won!  
  
Jin opened his mouth, then shut it again. Of course this would happen, after the fight with Nina Williams. Everybody probably thought he was a psychopath, or something, or worse. Which, Jin reflected, he probably true. But she had spoken to him...what did she know? He took another step towards her, almost subconsciously. He found his way barred by Paul Phoenix, who placed a restraining hand on his chest.   
  
Look kid, he said, a touch of menace in his voice. I think you want to be leaving her alone.  
  
Jin's grasp of English was fair, if a little rusty, but even if Paul had remained silent, his expression spoke volumes. He took one last look at this Dai Martin', and, relieved to her sitting up talking, walked away, with more questions than answers buzzing through his mind.


	34. Chapter 34

You threw the fight.  
  
Hwoarang's tone wasn't accusatory, but it certainly wasn't a question. It was instead a statement, although he did sound (and look) confused. Dai smirked.  
  
That's scandalous gossip. I'll have you for slander. She winced as she moved her arm, and glanced at the medic. Can you do me a favour and pop my shoulder back in?  
  
The medic shook his head. You're going to hospital.  
  
What for? Dai asked. Just pop it back in. I don't need painkillers, I just need my shoulder to stop jutting out at a funny angle.  
  
The medic sighed. If you insist.  
  
Dai grunted as her shoulder was relocated to its correct position. She rubbed it, still wincing, and stood up. The medic looked relieved.  
  
You know, I was there at that guy's last fight, he said shuddering. We didn't know if she was going to pull through, but she's stubborn.  
  
Must be the luck of the Irish, Dai chuckled. How is she?  
  
Still under observation, but she's through the worst. Her brother's been there every day...I think it's her brother, anyway, plus a Chinese guy. I think he fought in the last tournament. The medic stopped, as if he suddenly realised that talking about other patients was a tad indiscreet. Uh, are you sure you're okay?  
  
You're the medic, Dai grinned. But I'm fine, really. A bit sore, and my pride's taken a beating, but I'm fine.  
  
Well, kid, Paul said, ambling over to them. You can't win em all. There was a strange, knowing look in his eye, and for once Dai looked uncomfortable.  
  
she muttered. Hwoarang folded his arms.  
  
You...threw...the fight, he said emphatically. Go on, deny it, but I'll know you're lying.  
  
I'll leave you kids to it, Paul said diplomatically. I've got to see a man about a bear.  
  
Once they were alone, Dai sighed. What do you want me to say?  
  
I want to know why, Hwoarang said. Did you get the tracer on him?  
  
she said frankly. It...broke. Have you ever heard of plausible deniability.  
  
Of course, I'm...I _was_ assigned to the military special forces, he said. I don't care about that. He stroked her cheek. You were on form today, you could have beaten him. Why did you throw victory away?  
  
Because, Hwoarang, she said tiredly. There are some things that are more important. You feel that fighting Jin is something you _have_ to do. She shrugged. Besides, if I beat Jin, then I would have to fight you. If you've been pugging for the past two years because Jin spoilt your unblemished record by fighting you to a draw, I'd hate to see your reaction when I comprehensively whup your arse-  
  
Hwoarang protested, although in his heart he recognised the truth of her words.  
  
You'll have to put a tracer on him when you fight him. After you've beaten Kazuya.  
  
Hwoarang nodded, pushing his hair back. I just...I can't believe you did that for me. Thank you.  
  
Dai said thoughtfully. No pressure or anything, but....don't screw up! I'm counting on you to win! When I get back home, I'm probably going to be facing a list of disciplinary procedures longer than my arm...I'd like to think that it was worthwhile.  
  
No pressure', Hwoarang repeated sardonically. He wondered what he would do with the vast wealth of the Ziabatsu...could he bribe his superiors into letting him go without court martial? Probably not, he thought with a grimace. It wasn't something he liked thinking about; how could he and Dai be together, if he was facing sentence, and she was being punished, in whatever way secret organisations punish their members? Suddenly a lump formed in his throat, as he realised the enormity of what she had done; she had chosen him over the job she had pledged her life to, over people she had known since she was a child...she had done it all for him. When they had first met, she had suggested that her boss would perhaps be able to smooth things out with the army for him; instead Jeremy had taken offence at their relationship, and threatened the opposite. Hwoarang smiled at her.  
  
I'll win. I'll do it for you.  
  


*******  
  


Across the other side of the globe, Jeremy Martin ran his fingers over his telephone. His desk was pathologically neat, ordered...it was a visual indication of his way of doing things. He had a belief that, with enough research, all eventualities could be predicted and prepared for. Recently, however, his faith had been shaken. It was, he reflected, surprising that his faith wasn't tested more often in his particular line of work. Perhaps it had been, but he had ignored it, but now...  
  
Now everything was falling apart. Kazuya Mishima was alive, having been a willing guinea pig for G-Corp. Now the Mishima Ziabatsu was in possession of much of the research that had resulted form that liaison; not all of it, but enough to give them a head start. And if that wasn't bad enough, his best agent had become emotionally entangled with some street punk that was running away from the army.  
  
His best agent, his little girl...he looked at the numbers on his list of contacts. If he phoned the Korean embassy, his contact there could have Hwoarang back in Korea before he could blink...  
  
But Dai was quite besotted with him, Reiko had cheerfully announced. She and her husband, his colleagues and best friends, seemed to think that it was a good idea!   
  
_ Unbelievable, just simply unbelievable.  
  
_He looked at the photo of his family. He wanted that for Dai, one day...but her work was simply too important. He pulled a face as he sipped at his tea, which was rather tepid after nearly half an hour of neglect.  
  
Was he being fair? Was acting in Dai's best interests...or his own? The fact that he couldn't quite tell, even when he was trying to be honest with himself, was damning in itself. But the case against Hwoarang, against his appropriateness as a suitor, was compelling.  
  
After a few more minutes, Jeremy sighed and reached for the phone.


	35. Chapter 35

Hwoarang paced the arena, trying to ignore the disquiet of the onlookers. He glanced out at the city beyond; the view from the roof was certainly a sight to behold. A slight shiver ran down his spine, but it had nothing to do with the biting wind.  
  
We'll give him another five minutes, he heard the announcer mutter to one of the camera crew. He searched the crowd for Dai; the number of people permitted to be at this fight was limited, so it should have been a quick task. He frowned; where was she?  
  
His eyes eventually found hers; she looked strangely haunted, holding herself tightly, practically hiding behind a prohibitively expensive looking statue. Concerned, he went to her.  
  
Are you okay? he asked.  
  
she ventured weakly. Then, with an effort to sound stronger, Yes, I'm fine.  
  
You look lousy.  
  
she said wryly. A bit of sympathy for the girl who just had the stuffing kicked out of her, please?  
  
Well, it was your own fault, Hwoarang teased. He tried to play along, but he could see that was all it was; play-acting. Her cheerful banter sounded false, forced...perhaps it _was_ because of her defeat at the hands of Kazama, but he doubted it.  
  
She seemed to sense his doubt. Hwoarang, I'm fine, really. I'm just tired. And I really, _really_ hate heights. When it's dark. And outdoors.  
  
Hwoarang shrugged. If you say so.  
  
He turned his attention to the announcer, who bore a look of increasing exasperation on his face. He clicked off his phone.  
  
Any sign of him? Hwoarang inquired. The announcer shook his head, and to Hwoarang's surprise, raised his arm.  
  
Due to the absence of Kazuya Mishima, the winner of this round, by default, is Hwoarang!  
  
The announcer's voice lacked any real enthusiasm, and was soon drowned out by the cacophony of the angry crowd.  
  
Hwoarang grunted. So much for the mighty Kazuya Mishima.  
  
The next fight will be fought tomorrow, in the Mishima Family Compound. No ringside seats are available,but the fight will be televised in association with our sponsors!  
  
Hwoarang accepted a small envelope from the announcer, presumably containing all the relevant details of the penultimate fight. Him versus Jin Kazama.  
  
_About time too.  
  
_Hwoarang led Dai to the elevator reserved for tournament personnel and competitors. She still looked rather pallid and preoccupied, but her eyes seemed more alert than they had on the rooftop.  
  
What is going on? Hwoarang sighed. It was a rhetorical question; he wasn't really expecting an answer, so he was surprised and not entirely comforted when he received one.  
  
Heihachi has Kazuya. I know it, she said, that haunted look returning again. It...it may be too late.  
  
What are you talking about? Hwoarang asked, his skin crawling. _ Every time I learn something new about the Mishima family, I wish I hadn't...  
  
_Dai shook herself out of her strange mood. There's no way Kazuya would just miss a fight, fail to show up...this whole tournament has been a trap, designed for his capture. Heihachi must have got to him early.  
  
Hwoarang considered that, whilst the maddening, cheerful tinkle of elevator music polluted the background, adding a slightly surreal atmosphere to the conversation; it was like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding to Armaggedon on pink elephants. He folded his arms.  
  
If he has what he wants, why doesn't Heihachi just abandon the tournament? Hwoarang asked. Dai chuckled darkly.  
  
He can't...not publicly. It's all legally binding. Besides, he doesn't have _everything_.  
  
Hwoarang said bluntly. He frowned. Why do I get the feeling there's another thought you want to share with me?  
  
Dai patted his arm. You know me too well, she said. Basically...why is your fight with Jin being held in the compound, and not in any of the standard venues? And if you, or even Jin wins the tournament, do you really think that he will hand over the Ziabatsu to you?  
  
I thought the tournament was legally binding?  
  
It is, Dai said softly. But you can't claim anything if you're dead before the papers are signed. I know how Heihachi works; he'll break one law to avoid adhering to another, and because he's so powerful, no one will make a stand. She smiled bitterly. If he reneged on the promise of the Ziabatsu to the winner publicly, there would be an outcry. If he has the winner quietly exterminated before they claim their prize, the status quo remains and no-one raises an eyebrow.  
  
Hwoarang summoned up all the bravado he could muster. I'll just have to avoid getting killed after I win. Do you think that as head of the Ziabatsu, I'll get one of those swivelling chairs? Cos if I do, _nothing's_ gonna get in the way of me and that corporation!  
  
Dai was touched by his effort to cheer her up, but she couldn't shake the grimness that had descended upon her. She was worried, and desperately so; _fight Hwoarang,_ she had said, _But don't go to Heihachi Mishima. _Now Heihachi had decided to bring Jin to him; perhaps he realised that Hwoarang stood a very good chance of beating his grandson, and feared that Jin would once again disappear.   
  
A bright ping indicated that they had reached the ground floor. Dai sighed.  
  
Whatever Heihachi has planned...we'll know soon enough.  
  


********  
  


Jin hadn't stayed to watch the fight between his father and Hwoarang, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that Hwoarang had won. His pleasant surprise, however, soon turned to inexplicable dread.  
  
He didn't show up, he muttered to himself. That jarred with everything he had ever heard about Kazuya Mishima.  
  
Brooding in his makeshift home, Jin tried to make sense of recent events. The effort made his head hurt. He thought about his last fight, and felt uneasy; the girl had great ability, yet lost the fight after making an amateur's mistake...it felt wrong somehow. And who was she? She seemed to know him, although as the reigning champion that wasn't really that surprising. She was obviously very close to Hwoarang...perhaps he could find out more tomorrow?  
  
The uneasy feeling refused to go away, and the image of the girl was burnt into his memory. He had never met her before their fight, had never _seen_ her before, as far as he could remember...yet he couldn't shake a nagging feeling of recognition.  
  
Suddenly, he remembered with a smile something his mother had said; he was five years old at the time, and relentlessly inquisitive. After patiently answering his questions for over an hour, she eventually kneeled down next him, smiling warmly.  
  
There are always more questions than answers, Jin, she had said, ruffling his hair. One day, you'll learn which questions are worth asking, and which answers you want to possess.  
  
With that thought, he was able to fall into restful sleep.  
  


*******  
  


He's asleep, but very much alive, surprisingly.  
  
Heihachi laughed. Don't be surprised. This is my son,. If there is one thing I have learnt, it is that he will not die so easily.  
  
Dr Abel shuffled edgily, casting his eyes towards the comatose figure of Kazuya Mishima, still hanging from the restraints his father had prepared for him. Heihachi saw the doctor's unease, and roared with laughter.  
  
Don't be so concerned, doctor. I would not allow this man in my home unless I knew that I had a satisfactory leash to keep him tied down. He smiled coldly. Carry on your research, doctor. Find those answers.  
  
Dr Abel nodded, and briskly followed Heihachi out of the room, clutching his case close to his body, leaving Kazuya suspended, swaying slightly with each shallow breath.  
  
Kazuya opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and he had to constantly fight the lethargy that frequently overwhelmed him. The fury rekindled by the sound of his father's voice, by the taint of his very presence, had been a useful tool in that battle. He had to short the power somehow, he knew that...but without the aid of the power which had been central to him for so long, he was helpless. It was a difficult admission to make, even to himself.  
  
_Is this it?_ he wondered. _ Is this how I will end my days...a guinea pig to one of my father's mad schemes?  
  
_He found the thought depressing, and strengthened his resolve. Heihachi would soon learn a valuable, but probably fatal lesson in true power.


	36. Chapter 36

Hwoarang breathed deeply as the sun's first light filtered through the forest canopy. His breath condensed in the cold winter air; it would soon be spring, but it was still bitterly cold. He bowed to the west, to his homeland of Korea, and began running through his tuls. Today was the day he had been waiting for; the day for which he had abandoned his duty, for which he had become a fugitive, the day which had been pretty much central to his thoughts for the past two years.  
  
Why, then, was he preoccupied with other matters?  
  
He had wanted to beat Kazama to prove that he was superior, to prove that Baek Do San's faith in him had been justified. But now...now he felt he was engulfed in something much bigger. Something more important.  
  
A pang of guilt hit Hwoarang. Was he betraying his beloved mentor's faith by thinking such things? Or would Baek have understood? Other thoughts tormented him; how long could he run from the army? As the tournament's end drew closer, he had thought about it more and more.  
  
Baek Do San would be proud of you, son.  
  
Completing his pattern, Hwoarang turned to Mr Yamada. He sighed heavily.  
  
I wish I had your confidence in that, he said softly. I'll never know. Would he have approved of me ditching my national service to fight Kazama? Would he be annoyed that what I thought was important...doesn't seem to be that important now?  
  
Mr Yamada chuckled. You are young. The young are always changing, growing. Baek himself changed a lot.  
  
Hwoarang was intrigued. How do you know?  
  
During the second King of Iron Fist tournament, I met Baek. When he fought, it was with such savage brilliance, I was actually impressed. He chuckled again. Up until then, I had always been rather dismissive of Tae Kwon Do as a martial art.  
  
Hwoarang said dryly. Mr Yamada spread his arms in an apologetic gesture.  
  
I know better now. Anyway, I was there to observe the activities of the Mishima Ziabatsu's agents; they were under the command of Kazuya Mishima, during that time. At the start of the tournament, Baek Do San was a self-serving, arrogant thug-  
  
Hwoarang began angrily, before Mr Yamada cut him off.  
  
By the end of the tournament, he continued, His selfishness had been replaced by integrity, his arrogance by humility, and he approached his fights with honour. What changed? I do not know, and really, it doesn't matter. The important thing to consider is;_ have you changed for the better? _If not, can you do anything about? If you can, do. If you can't...accept it.  
  
They stood in silence for a few minutes while Hwoarang thought about Mr Yamada's advice. Hwoarang took a few paces around the yard, before pulling a golden locket out of his pocket. He opened it, and took a long look at its contents.  
  
He never told me much about the time he spent working for the Ziabatsu, Hwoarang began. He told me that he realised one day that it wasn't his path, when he asked himself the question Would my father be proud of me?' The photo of Baek and his father looked out of the locket, the warmth of their smiles undiminished by the fading sepia of the photograph. This is all I have left of him now.  
  
You have your training, Mr Yamada reminded him. And your memories. Tell me...what do you think Baek would make of your life now, if you are honest with yourself?  
  
Hwoarang considered this, and then, hesitantly- I think I've spent so much time trying to be the fighter I thought Baek would want me to be, that I never considered what sort of _man_ he would've wanted me to be.  
  
Mr Yamada smiled, satisfied to see that Hwoarang had reached this level of understanding. Your fighting skills are beyond reproach, Hwoarang, but pure skill is nothing without the heart to back it up. If you had stayed in the army, you may never have discovered that part of you that was missing...and neither would have Dai.  
  
I never _knew_ Baek, as such, but I am certain he would be proud of who you are. And, he added, I think you know that, too.  
  
Hwoarang managed a lopsided smile, and placed the locket back in his pocket. I wish he could have met Dai. He would have liked her.  
  
Mr Yamada gave Hwoarang an affectionate slap on the back. I wish you could have met Kira - that's Dai's mother.  
  
You think she would have liked me? Hwoarang asked curiously. The ninja stifled a grin.  
  
Mr Yamada said matter-of-factly. But she would have gotten used to you.  
  
He circled around Hwoarang, bowed, then dropped into a loose fighting stance. Well...you have a fight today, do you not? Care to train with me?  
  
Hwoarang bowed, then dropped into stance himself, smirking.  
  
Let's go.  
  


********  
  


Shaking his head in disbelief, the officer turned away from the screen in disgust, the image of the red haired youngster frozen in action, his legs flying high in a familiar display of arrogance and brilliance combined.   
  
That's him, the Colonel said gruffly. He turned to his subordinate. I want a team to bring back our young runaway sergeant. He scowled. The sheer arrogance...   
  
He tried to ignore the smirk on the subordinate's face as he snapped to attention before leaving the room. A sigh escaped him; when, exactly, did discipline go out of the window? Hwoarang', as the boy liked to be known, was enlisted, so a certain lack of conditioning was to be expected, but his _lieutenant_...  
  
He wasn't comforted that the General was wearing a similar smile as he rewound and watched the fight again.  
  
It should have been obvious, really, the General commented. In his heart, this is where he belongs, he said, tapping the glass. And watching him fight, one can perhaps understand why.  
  
I would respectfully suggest, sir, the Colonel said, trying not to sound strained. That perhaps his talents could be better utilised by serving his country.  
  
The General's expression turned sharp, and for a moment the Colonel feared that his thinly veiled irritation at his superior's attitude was too obvious, and had been a serious breach of military etiquette. Instead, the General decided to laugh.  
  
I can understand a certain..._annoyance, _on your behalf, Colonel, he said dryly. After all, how long did this boy serve under you? After all this time, you still don't understand his intentions. If we hadn't have seen this, he said, tapping the screen once more, We may not have found him until it was too late.  
  
If not being able to understand the mind of a petty street thug is a crime, then I am proud to be guilty, the Colonel scowled, his veneer of civility wearing decidedly thin. The sooner we arrest the arrogant little snot and court-martial him, the better I'll feel, and the better it will be for discipline. Sir.  
  
the General sighed, sounding vaguely regretful. I suppose we do what we must.


	37. Chapter 37

That's interesting.  
  
Dai sat up, drowsiness falling off her like thawing snow off a branch. Reiko was standing by the window, smiling in her usual serene fashion. Dai frowned; could she hear shouting? She clambered out of bed, joined Reiko at the window, and took an involuntary step back.  
  
Why is Yamada-sensei attacking Hwoarang with a sword? she asked. It seemed like a reasonable enough question.  
  
Reiko chuckled. He actually floored him.  
  
What? Who-  
  
Reiko turned to her, a broad grin lighting up her face. Your man floored my man.  
  
Hwoarang..._floored_ Yamada-sensei? she gasped, her jaw dropping slightly. Regaining her composure, she began grinning herself. That is _so_ cool!  
  
Ah, yes, but I think my beloved is taking it rather badly, Reiko said wryly. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd been learning our ways whilst we weren't looking.  
  
Dai kept her eyes on the fight, but couldn't resist a sly grin. I may have given him a few pointers.  
  
Outside, Hwoarang eventually hit the floor hard, skidding across the gravel. Mr Yamada stood over him, menacingly holding the katana to his throat.  
  
That's one-all, Hwoarang said evenly after regaining his breath. Best out of three?  
  
Mr Yamada looked irritated at the reminder of his uncharacteristic defeat. He pulled the sword back into a guarding stance.  
  
Get up then, he muttered, realising a split second too late Hwoarang's intentions. Usually when he did scissor kicks, Hwoarang would be flying through the air. However, it also worked well floor bound...  
  
As Mr Yamada hit the ground, Hwoarang span away from him whilst simultaneously snatching the sword. Now he was standing above his fallen foe, holding a blade to his face. He grinned, and held his hand out to the stony faced ninja.  
  
Two-one, I win, he smirked. Mr Yamada rolled his eyes in resignation.  
  
You cheated.  
  
Did not.  
  
Did too.  
  
How old are you? Seven? Hwoarang said laughing. Mr Yamada held his obdurate expression, before laughing himself. He sprang up without Hwoarang's assistance.  
  
Off day. Haven't been feeling well, Mr Yamada offered as explanation. You don't really need to tell Dai or Reiko about this, do you?  
  
I thought that occasionally losing was supposed to be beneficial, or so Dai tells me, Hwoarang chuckled. But don't worry, I won't say anything if you don't.  
  
Mr Yamada bowed slightly in gratitude, but faltered when he saw Dai and Reiko leaning out of the window, eyebrows raised. Dai shook her head and began tutting. Seeing the ninja's expression change, Hwoarang turned and saw the two women. He sniggered.  
  
  
  
Mr Yamada sighed and grabbed a rake from a small shed, and turned his attention to the gravel, muttering under his breath. Eventually, he allowed himself a resigned shrug. Hey, even grandmaster's can't be perfect all of the time...  
  


*******  
  


Heihachi sank into the leather chair. It had been weeks since he had last sat in his office, viewing the various reports from the multitude of departments that formed his Ziabatsu. A smile crept along his face, though it was devoid of humour; it was instead the knowing smile of a predator, realising that the game was nearly over, and that the rewards of all his careful planning could soon be reaped.  
  
His son was under his dominion already, and soon his grandson would follow. All possible threats to his rule were soon to be extinguished.  
  
With a languid gesture, he flicked on the huge screen that adorned his office wall;it served several purposes, from hosting video-conferencing with overseas investors to merely displaying the news. Right now it was showing his grandson's battle against the English girl, Dai Martin. Intelligence had flagged her as having a possible affiliation to an anti-Mishima coalition, although had very little in the way of concrete evidence.  
  
Heihachi turned to the window, seeing the screen's image reflected on the glass. It didn't matter for now; after his upstart progeny had been dealt with, then he would turn his attention to all these ridiculous groups that had been harassing his company for decades. He looked out to the city, and contemplated the future, the future that he was set to dominate.  
  
That future would consolidated today.  
  


******  
  


Jin sat meditating, trying to still his mind, trying to focus on his breath. It was difficult, for his thoughts were in a constant state of flux, and demanded attention. Today was the penultimate battle, between him and Hwoarang. After that, it would be Heihachi...  
  
His thoughts drifted in a different, and quite unexpected direction as he suddenly thought of Ling Xiaoyu. He could almost sense her, smell the vague scent of flowers that always seemed to accompany her. Despite this, is was still quite a surprise to open his eyes and see her there, wearing a brightly coloured summer dress that reflected the personality of its wearer.  
  
I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump, she said nervously as Jin started. He noticed that she seemed to shrink back slightly, almost as if she was..._scared_?  
  
Her fingers twisted strands of raven hair from her pigtails, in a manner that suggested anxiety rather than coquettishness.   
  
Jin waited a minute or two as silence hung in the air, knowing that Ling wanted to say something but didn't seem to know how to say it.   
  
You are you, aren't you? she blurted suddenly, before clasping her hands over her mouth in a belated attempt to stop the words from escaping. She cringed. God, that sounded stupid, even for me...  
  
Jin dropped his head in misery. She had heard, heard how he had nearly killed his competitor, heard how most people thought he had gone insane. His blood froze as a fragmented memory came to him, as if he was seeing it through another's eyes; _a girl running in horror from the battle, running from the horror of seeing his other self doing such things, running from the coldness of his gaze...  
  
_She hadn't heard. She had _seen_.  
  
How...how can you be near me? How can you stand me, knowing what I've done?   
  
His voice sounded strange, strained. He couldn't bear to look at her, to see the fear in her eyes, her fear of _him_. Why was she here?   
  
He wasn't expecting her to wrap her arms around him with such velocity that he was nearly bowled to the floor. Her tears flowed, and she began babbling incoherently. Jin didn't care; as he returned her embrace, he knew that here was someone that could offer him the forgiveness and understanding he could yet offer himself.  
  
  
  
He stroked her hair, fighting back the tears that were welling in his own eyes. Ling..._slow down_.  
  
  
They sat in Jin's ramshackle hut, as Ling recounted what she had been doing since the last tournament, and since receiving the email warning her of Heihachi's diabolical intentions, sensing that Jin would talk when he was good and ready.  
  
I was sure it was from you, so I took it seriously. I always thought that Heihachi was...well, benevolent, with all the stuff the Ziabatsu did for world peace, and the environment, but I did some digging- she frowned, And it wasn't long before I hit dirt.  
  
Jin nodded. I'm glad you're safe.  
  
Ling chewed on a cereal bar, expecting Jin to say more, He didn't; instead, he seemed painfully self-conscious that A, he lived in a hut, and B, that the most he could offer his unexpected guest was cereal bars and mineral water. He chewed on his lower lip.  
  
You're not saying much, Ling ventured gently, tilting her head in that way Jin found so endearing. He looked embarrassed.  
  
This is about the longest conversation I've had in two years, he smiled awkwardly. Even my conversations with Brad-sensei were shorter. He chuckled. Although I didn't speak much English, and he didn't speak much Japanese, so that's not difficult.  
  
Was that when you were in Australia? she asked. He nodded.  
  
She looked at him, trying to figure out how she could ask him what the hell was going on. Likewise, he was trying to figure out how the hell to tell her.  
  
Jin...what happened to you? After the tournament?  
  
Jin looked at her, at those questioning brown eyes. Heihachi killed me.  
  
Ling's eyes widened in horror. What are you saying? Jin?  
  
After being machine gunned down by the Tekkenshu, Heihachi shot me. In the head. His tone was bitter, but, Ling realised, if what he was saying was true, he shouldn't even _have_ a tone. He gave her a grim smile. I got better.  
  
Ling asked breathlessly. It seemed ridiculous, but she knew it was true.  
  
Something...something in my blood. A curse, Jin settled on. I nearly lost control, nearly lost myself. I was going to kill Heihachi, but I managed to stop myself.  
  
Ling asked angrily. Jin was taken aback by her tone.  
  
Why' what?  
  
Why stop yourself? You knew then what Heihachi was! Tears rolled down her cheek. I can't believe he tried to kill you...  
  
Jin allowed himself a grim chuckle, feeling vaguely surreal that he was actually talking to someone about these events. Believe me, there hasn't been...there's rarely been a day gone by when I haven't thought Would I have saved the world a whole load of grief if I had finished him there and then?' There's even been times when I wished I had killed him for pure vengeance's sake.  
  
No-one would blame you for that, Jin, Ling said her voice trembling. Jin sighed, and leant against the wall.  
  
It's not that simple. It _shouldn't_ be that simple. He thought for a moment. If I killed him...whatever it is in my blood, it would have won, and it would take control, I'm sure of it. He dropped his voice. It's happened once, briefly...I don't want it to ever happen again. You saw what I did to that woman...I had no control, it was as if I wasn't even there. I don't know why it happened, and I'm terrified that it will happen again.  
  
The girl said you were in danger, Ling said softly. From both Heihachi and yourself.  
  
Jin was intrigued. He asked, although he felt that he already knew, Which girl?  
  
She said her name was Dai, I think. She's a competitor.  
  
I know, I beat her, Jin said thoughtfully. Ling looked awkward.  
  
Sorry. I...I haven't seen any more of your matches.  
  
Jin gave her an understanding smile, tinged with sadness. That's okay. His brow furrowed. When I fought her, she gave me a warning - she told me to stay away from grandfa...from Heihachi. It annoyed him that even after everything Heihachi had done, he couldn't help but think of him as his grandfather.  
  
What are you going to do? Ling said worriedly. You're going to be going to his home to fight that Korean guy! What if it's a trap?  
  
Jin brooded, and rested his chin on his knees. I have to see this through, to the end. I can't just keep running for the rest of my life. He touched her hand. I can take care of myself.  
  
I'll come with you! she exclaimed. I can watch your back, and-  
  
No, Ling, Jin said firmly. For whatever twisted reason, Heihachi wants you dead. Even if he didn't, he would probably use you to get to me. If anything happened to you...  
  
He broke off, unable to finish the thought; he couldn't even bear to think about it. I've lost too much already.  
  
Ling smiled weakly, and rested her head on his chest. We won't always have to run.


	38. Chapter 38

Do you think they'll let you in?  
  
Dai shrugged in answer to Hwoarang's question. We'll have to wait and see. It says No Spectators', but I was also a competitor. She smirked. And your coach.  
  
Of course, Hwoarang said good-humouredly. You taught me everything that I know.  
  
Dai skipped from foot to foot edgily, as the private train hurtled them closer to the home of Heihachi Mishima. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, and tried to remind herself that she was a professional. _Still human, though_, she thought with a smile. She was sure that Jeremy would have several choice words to offer her concerning her professionalism' in her post-mission briefing.  
  
She looked at Hwoarang, fear for him tying a knot in her stomach. Heihachi was plotting something, but there was nothing she could do about it without drawing attention to her organisation, or to Hwoarang. Jin Kazama was also heading into danger, Kazuya Mishima was missing...the whole thing was proceeding far faster than her superiors had anticipated. Whether the tournament officials allowed her into the compound or not, Dai would be there, one way or another, to watch Hwoarang's back, and Jin's too.  
  
They felt the train slow as it approached an underground station. Are we stopping? Hwoarang asked, glancing around the carriage. The interior was dazzlingly bright, with rows of halogen lights illuminating the carriage, and reflecting off the highly polished glass windows and chrome surfaces. In the darkness of the station outside, he could just make out dim figures in combat gear, adorned with masks and guns, pacing around in a purposeful fashion.  
  
he said in a low voice. Old man Mishima takes his security seriously.  
  
Dai nodded. Although this line is for the exclusive use of Ziabatsu staff and goods, they still check in case any insurgents have hijacked a train, or infiltrated an legitimate load. She gestured to the cameras that graced the cabin. Say hello to the nice security people!  
  
Hwoarang shifted uneasily. I know they can't hear us, but still...  
  
Dai said. It'll just register as a random equipment fault. As long as they can still see us, they won't be too concerned.  
  
So why are you bouncing around like a grasshopper? Hwoarang asked wryly. Dai sat down.  
  
Because I'm trying to think of the best way of fulfilling my mission parameters without anyone getting killed. I hate it when people die, even if they're evil scum like Heihachi Mishima.  
  
For a few minutes there was silence between them as the train restarted, smoothly gliding along the rails. Hwoarang wondered if he should say more, but he got the impression that Dai didn't want to continue the conversation. He also wondered if Jin was on the same train, in another carriage perhaps. He rather hoped that Kazama wouldn't follow in his father's footsteps, and go missing.  
  


******  
  


Jin moved stealthily forward, leaving another trail of unconscious guards in his wake. He pulled himself over the large wall - a quick survey of the area showed that there were no more guards or dogs to contend with in the immediate future. He landed lightly on the other side.  
  
He could have taken the specially scheduled train into the compound; part of him had been tempted, as he thought that the mysterious girl might be travelling with Hwoarang. However, he realised that even if she was, there would be no way he would be able to talk to her without their conversation being monitored.  
  
Avoiding the cameras and sensors, Jin moved through the grounds like a ghost. He smiled tightly; security had not changed much since he had lived here. As part of his training, Heihachi himself had taught him how to avoid triggering the alarms. He had said it was beneficial for situation awareness'.   
  
The grounds were familiar, yet Jin reflected that although he had spent four years living here, training with his grandfather, it had never felt like home. There was a coldness about the place he couldn't explain; Heihachi had always given him everything he had asked for, often making grand gestures of grandfatherly affection. Perhaps there had been a part of him that had distrusted Heihachi all along.  
  
Four walls later, Jin stopped before the massive, traditional style building. He needed no guide to tell him where the fight would be held, it would be here, in the Mishima dojo. He had learnt Mishima style karate here, under the careful tutelage of Heihachi. The old man had often been exasperated by Jin's refusal to abandon his mother's teachings, yet eventually even he had acknowledged that the two arts had combined to create a formidable style - a style which had now been abandoned in favour of traditional karate, so great was Jin's loathing for anything Mishima related. When he thought about the Mishima blood flowing through his veins, he found it hard not to hate himself.  
  
The guard by the entrance looked startled as Jin pushed his way past, keying in the pass code and opening the door. He took a deep breath, and stepped in...  
  
His skin began to prickle as he realised that the dojo was almost completely empty. There were none of the expected camera crews, no officials, no announcers. Jin wondered for a moment if he had misjudged Heihachi, and that the fight was in fact going to be held elsewhere in the compound. That was before he caught sight of the man hanging limply, like some sick live action parody of a crucifix. The man swayed with his shallow breathing, the chains showing minute movement. Unwillingly, driven by a horrible compulsion, Jin stepped forward. The man was scarred, yet younger looking than Jin would have expected. Of his scars, the most vivid one was the angry slash of gnarled pink flesh that ran across his torso. Jin wondered what violent act could have created such a scar, yet allowed its victim to live.  
  
Jin had often wondered what his first encounter with his father would be. He had never imagined it would be like this. He never heard the footsteps behind him.  
  
I've been waiting for you, grandson.


	39. Chapter 39

The guard keyed the code in for them, the impassive mask betraying nothing. Their guide had disappeared into the limo, and now its lights were distant specks amongst the trees, heading back towards the last compound station, two security zones away. There was a distinct lack of guards, Dai noticed, feeling decidedly uneasy about the observation. The door clicked open.  
  
Here we go, Hwoarang smiled lopsidedly, stepping in first.  
  
He was impressed by the dojang, it was a beautiful piece of architecture, inside and out. He noticed the lack of camera crews a few seconds after he noticed Heihachi standing over his opponent for the evening, who was trying to stand back up.  
  
Ah, we have guests, Heihachi sneered. Hwoarang did his best to look unconcerned.  
  
Wow. You really kicked the snot out of him, he said evenly, giving a respectful nod of the head.  
  
Children need discipline, Heihachi smiled darkly. He turned to Dai. I see you brought a cheerleader.  
  
I'm a woman of many talents, Dai said, matching Heihachi's tone. And I've got to say, I love what you've done with this place; bleeding grandson on floor, catatonic son hanging from the walls - it's very chi-chi.  
  
Are you mocking me, girl? Heihachi asked, sounding amused. Dai shook her head.  
  
No, I was commending you on you interior design skills. Where are the TV crews?  
  
Technical fault, Heihachi stated. So that was his plan, Dai realised; if no-one witnessed the fight, Heihachi could make up any story that he pleased. No-one would challenge him.  
  
Jin was on his feet now. A trickle of blood ran from his nose, but his eyes were alert. He glared at his grandfather balefully, his hands working themselves into fists. Hwoarang, now in a state of hyper-vigilance, gently brushed Dai aside.  
  
I'm here to fight Kazama, Mr Mishima. I don't care about your Ziabatsu, I just want to fight him. It was a lie, but if it helped clarify the old man's intentions...  
  
Heihachi floored Jin again, who had stealthily edging his way towards him. He stomped on him viciously, and Hwoarang saw his consciousness fade.  
  
Kazama is out of the tournament, boy, Heihachi smirked. Congratulations, you go straight on to the main event. He dropped into his favoured stance. Show me what you've got.  
  
The boy was, Heihachi had to concede, supremely skilled; he was fast, agile, and had tremendous power behind him. He evaded most of the Korean youngster's swift kicks, but a few contacted with his temple with dizzying force. He was, however, Heihachi Mishima; despite his advanced years, he still possessed tremendous strength; _because_ of his advanced years, he had the experience of almost every conceivable fighting style, had fought opponents beyond count.  
  
Including Hwoarang's mentor, Baek Do San.  
  
Hwoarang was floored by a hammer blow to the stomach. He struggled to regain his wind, and his footing.  
  
Impressive, boy, Heihachi said. You fight better than your teacher.  
  
Hwoarang managed to swirl around Heihachi, who attempted to preempt Hwoarang's kick by grabbing him. Hwoarang, however, had other ideas, and with a flurry of motion, flung the old man around, twisting his wrist and elbow, and bringing him to the floor. He brought his heel down on the small of Heihachi's spine.  
  
Which teacher? I have a few, Hwoarang grinned, winking at Dai.  
  
Dai's attention was split between the fight and Jin, who was still lying unconscious. His pulse was strong, and his breathing was steady...he was just knocked clean out.  
  
Come on, Jin, she urged in a whisper. You need to get out of here.  
  
She winced as Hwoarang hit the deck again, having received a brutal uppercut to his chin. For a moment she was worried that he too had been knocked out, but then she caught the stony resolve in his eyes. He sprang back up, much to Heihachi's surprise.  
  
Her gaze turned from Jin to Kazuya, dangling like some forgotten toy. The mighty Kazuya Mishima, strung up like a puppet. Dai had expected to feel revulsion, or at the very least contempt, for the man who had perpetrated so much evil throughout his life. To her surprise, what Dai felt was more like pity; he wasn't a monster...he was just a man.  
  
Hwoarang had gone on the offensive, had floored the old man several times, but Heihachi kept on getting up. He was flagging, though, Hwoarang could see it. Heihachi was a formidable fighter, but he was nearly four times older than Hwoarang. If he could just wear him down...  
  
Hwoarang caught a glint of something metallic before it contacted with his face. As he looked up he realised that he was looking at the barrel of a gun.  
  
Dai cursed herself for being distracted as she saw Heihachi produce the gun from a concealed pocket from his gi trousers. She sprang up lightly, ready for action.  
  
You're going to _shoot me_?! Hwoarang exclaimed in disbelief, as he fought the spots in his vision. Man, are you a sore loser!  
  
You were a distraction, boy, nothing more, Heihachi breathed heavily. You will find your attempts to bait me fruitless. I have all that I want. Anything else- he turned the gun away and fired. -is expendable.  
  
It took Hwoarang a few moments to register what had happened. He turned to the direction in which Heihachi's gun was pointing, as saw Dai, hand clutching her chest as blood poured out of it. The entry wound was huge, and Hwoarang knew after his time in the army, fatal. She fell to the floor, lifeless, empty eyes staring to nothingness under half closed lids.  
  
Hwoarang screamed, his voice sounding shrill and alien over the buzzing in his head. God, no, Dai!  
  
He rushed to her side, took her into his arms, feeling her lifeblood escape onto him. He cradled her head, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking - why couldn't he stop shaking? He felt the cold metal press against the back off his skull.  
  
Now it's your turn, boy.


	40. Chapter 40

Heihachi was surprised as Hwoarang swept his legs away, knocking him off balance. A sharp kick dislodged his grip on the revolver, sending it skidding across the wooden floor. He faced the youngster, and had the uncomfortable feeling that he had made a mistake.  
  
Now, bastard, you die, the boy snarled in a rasping voice, tears still staining his face, his dead girlfriend's blood staining his dobok. With an inhuman bellow, he launched himself at Heihachi.  
  
The old man buckled under the onslaught, and soon Hwoarang had him pinned to the floor, cracking blows on his skull that had no legal place in any martial art. Heihachi managed to lift his head slightly, and his eye's widened.  
  
You're...you're alive! he shouted in disbelief. Hwoarang turned, hoping against hope-  
  
Heihachi smirked, and landed a blow on Hwoarang's throat. He pushed the youngster off, and reached for his gun. Once again, Hwoarang was staring down the barrel.  
  
You've got spirit, Heihachi chuckled. But like everyone else, you're bogged down by needless sentiment. It's a shame - you could have been great. But now...now you join your girlfriend. Time to die, boy.  
  
Hwoarang took a deep breath, but in a way, Heihachi's words had made this easier to bear. If he was joining Dai...if he was joining Dai, that would be more than enough compensation for not avenging her death. Somehow, he knew that she wouldn't mind that he had failed in that particular quest. Heihachi pulled the trigger.  
  
In his last moments, Hwoarang realised what people meant when they said that in life and death situations, everything seemed to go in slow motion. The bullets seemed to just hang in the air. He turned and saw Dai, smiling serenely, still blood stained, but surrounded by a corona of pure light, that was almost too beautiful to comprehend. White feathered wings graced her back, and she looked like the very essence of purity, like an angel in a stained glass window. After what seemed like a lifetime her serene expression changed, and finally, she spoke.  
  
Hwoarang? Do you want to get out of the way of the bullets? She sounded slightly exasperated. Hwoarang blinked in confusion.  
  
I'm...not dead? he ventured.  
  
she said matter-of-factly.  
  
You're not dead? he asked, daring to hope. Her face broke into that familiar smile.  
  
Well, _duh!_  
  
Heihachi stumbled away from the light, the gun wavering in his trembling grip. He shot at Dai, the bullets disintegrating in the light. He carried on trying to shoot even once he had run out of bullets, the spent revolver smoking and clicking. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was truly terrified. Dai advanced towards him.  
  
Who are you? he shouted desperately. _What_ are you?  
  
You call it the Devil Gene', she said softly. But it isn't really. There's a choice. There's always a choice.  
  
Heihachi pointed to Kazuya. Him! He is possessed by a devil! He's evil!  
  
Dai rolled her eyes. Once again you are willing to sacrifice your son to benefit yourself. She looked up at Kazuya, and her voice turned quiet, thoughtful. Two souls in one body; the one is flawed, certainly...that's human nature. The other is evil, pure and simple, and seeks to dominate its host. She looked back at Heihachi. But tell me, Heihachi, what's your excuse? You do not possess the devil gene, and therefore it doesn't possess you. Yet despite this, you choose evil willingly, not out of any dark passion, but out of a cold lust for power. I think that makes you worse than Kazuya.  
  
Heihachi's expression changed. He had managed to regain his composure, and could be seen to be calculating his options. You know nothing, he sneered. I seek order for this world, I seek to restore it to glory!  
  
How? Through murder and destruction? Dai shook her head. I never wanted to believe that you were as evil as people claimed you to be. How could you be? You are human, which means that you are no more completely evil than I am completely good. And yet...  
  
Her expression hardened. I can forgive the fact that you tried to kill me. But you tried to kill him, she gestured to Hwoarang. And that I can't forgive.  
  
What are you going to do? Kill me? Heihachi sneered. How would your precious morality justify that?  
  
Dai raised a brow. I already told you, I'm not completely good.  
  
Her punch sent Heihachi crashing into the wall, making the thick wooden panels splinter under the impact. There was a fizzle of electricity behind the fallen man, and the dojo lights went out, leaving only the weak light from outside to filter through the tiny windows. Dai rushed to Hwoarang.  
  
You're not dead, he stated numbly. I...I thought I'd lost you.  
  
He kissed her, and brushed her hair away from her face. He took a step back, and gave her the once over. It was slightly surreal to see her standing there, acting exactly the same as normal, whilst being covered in blood and sporting huge feathered wings.  
  
he said. You have the Devil Gene?  
  
She smiled. What gave it away? Was it the wings, or the miraculous resurrection?  
  
Why didn't you tell me? he asked. Dai took his hand.  
  
I wanted to, she said. But it's not something that you advertise. And I was worried it would freak you out. She smiled wryly. Admit it, you're freaked out now.  
  
Yeah, a little, he admitted. I just feel weird. When I thought you were dead-  
  
His gaze wondered, and Dai noticed a shift in his expression. He was no longer looking at her, but behind her. She turned, and saw Jin standing over Kazuya. Like Dai, Jin was also sporting a huge pair of feathered wings, but unlike Dai's, they were pure ebony, like the jagged tattoos that had mystically appeared on his chest. Kazuya, who was now free of his bonds, was awake, but obviously still very weak. Jin grabbed his father by the throat, and lifted him effortlessly, as if he was no more than a doll. A strange violet haze swirled around the pair. Dai's eyes widened as Jin raised his fist for a killing blow.  
  
Jin! No! she shouted. He paused, and turned his head slightly. She ran towards him. Jin, you can't kill him.  
  
He's evil. He deserves to die, Jin replied with a thick voice, sounding dangerously close to losing his self-control. Dai sighed.  
  
That's what he thought about his father, she said sadly. Don't you see it, Jin? Can't you see history repeating itself? She looked at Kazuya. If you kill him, you will become him. Please Jin...hasn't there been enough killing in this family?  
  
Jin seemed to consider this, but his expression remained cold. He's evil.  
  
Perhaps he is, she said. But your mother saw good in him once...as did mine.  
  
Jin looked at her, the implications of her words sinking in. A slight shuffle of movement drew his attention back to his father, who was staring at Dai, an unreadable expression on his face.   
  
He tried to stand. Little Hana?  
  
Dai nodded. That was my name once.  
  
But you died, Kazuya said, his expression still blank. You and your mother.  
  
A single tear rolled down Dai's cheek. She knew that you'd never let her go, but she knew that she couldn't stay. She was terrified of what you were becoming.  
  
Kazuya steadied himself against the wall. He seemed to be regaining his strength with each moment that passed. His head lowered, and both Jin and Hwoarang braced themselves for a possible attack. Jin kept looking at Dai, feeling elated that he had found family other than Kazuya and Heihachi. Dai's attention remained on Kazuya.  
  
My life has become dedicated to stopping people like you, to preventing people becoming like you, whilst denying myself. But now, as I embrace my gift, I realise...there's another way.  
  
Without warning, she placed her hand on her father's head. He began shaking violently, began screaming, as blinding light surrounded them, energy visibly snaking its way around them. Hwoarang caught Jin as he faltered, and wondered, not for the first time since he had met Dai, what the hell was going on. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over.  
  
Kazuya leant heavily against the wall, and looked at Dai in confusion. What have you done to me?  
  
The entity which you know as Devil' has been imprisoned within a wall of light, Dai panted. You'll find that his influence will be less...persuasive. You can release him, if you so wish. That's up to you. But be aware that the decision you make will affect both you _and_ Jin.  
  
Jin, who had been inspecting his disappearing tattoos, looked up from his chest. What?'  
  
It's clear to me now. Twenty years ago, Devil' effectively split himself in two; the greater portion of his being stayed within Kazuya, whereas the other at some point lodged itself in you  
  
Jin shuddered. _Before I even had the chance to draw my first breath..._  
  
The entity has sought to reunite itself, Dai continued. I think that knowing that Kazuya's physical form was weakened, Devil' wanted you to kill him, so that it would be completely free of the bond to Kazuya-  
  
And complete itself in me, Jin finished. He had been so close...  
  
This is all hypothetical, you understand, Dai smiled. I'm not entirely sure how I know this. I could just be talking out of my arse, but hey...it's a theory.  
  
Jin nodded, and looked vaguely hopeful. So because the demon is imprisoned in him, the thing inside of me is imprisoned as well?  
  
For now, Dai said. She looked at Kazuya. How long for depends on our father.  
  
Kazuya's expression remained blank; none of the youngsters would have guessed that he was thinking about his children, and the misery his choices had inflicted upon their lives. He particularly wanted to talk to his daughter, Hana, or Dai, as she was calling herself; he wanted to know what had happened to the woman he had loved, the woman he should have married...  
  
Instead he stood there silently as the children away.  
  
Outside, Dai took a deep breath. She looked into the forest, and then at Hwoarang and Jin. Jin smiled at her.  
  
So...you're my interfering big sister.  
  
Guess so, she shrugged, which looked particularly interesting as her wings moved with the motion. She stroked Hwoarang's cheek. Are you alright? You look kind of pale...  
  
he said, thinking about everything that had happened over the past hour.   
  
  
  
Is there anything else I should know about you?  



	41. Epilogue

It had been three months since the chaotic ending of The King of Iron Fist 4 Tournament. The official story was that both Hwoarang and Jin Kazama failed to attend, forfeiting their positions. Instead, the final was held between Heihachi Mishima and his son, Kazuya.   
  
Two months after Kazuya's victory, Heihachi died in his sleep, leaving no one to truly mourn his passing.   
  
Once again the CEO of the Mishima Ziabatsu, Kazuya had a whole ream of tasks ahead of him, including his father's estate. He was surprised to find that the old man had left him pretty much everything. He couldn't begin to understand why.  
  
Deluged with a torrent of paperwork, Kazuya had often found himself wryly wondering if things weren't easier when everyone thought he was dead. But now he had everything he had fought for; the power, the wealth, the control. As he had sworn, he had got everything back.  
  
So why dud he feel so empty?  
  
His father's death, he suspected, had much to do with it. He had spent most of his life hating Heihachi, it had been the one constant in a changing world. Now that Heihachi was dead, that hatred seemed rather pointless. He remembered Dai's words to Jin; _Can't you see history repeating itself?  
  
_He had all the power, the wealth, and the control that came with being the head of the Ziabatsu. He also had no friends, only associates, and two children that probably despised him. History had repeated itself.  
  
He had become Heihachi.  
  
The gentle breeze shifted the grass around him slightly. He had decided to take a break from the city, and had been drawn to the place where it had all began, to the hills and cliffs where his father had abandoned him at the age of five. He had gotten half way down a forested hill, when the grassy plain that ended in the cliff came into view. The view was breathtaking, not because of the incredible vista, with the mountains beyond, but because of what was going on below.  
  


********  
  


Hwoarang! What was _that_? Dai yelled. That was pathetic!  
  
Hwoarang sprang back, shaking his head. Well if you can do any better, you fight him!  
  
He tagged her, hurling her into the makeshift ring, its boundaries marked by assorted garments, bags and stones. She grinned, and bowed. An excited figure bounced around them.  
  
You go, Jin! Ling yelled. You're on fire!  
  
Jin was soon on the floor, his arm twisted behind his back at an unnatural. He grunted, trying to release the hold on his arm. Dai twisted it further, leading him to grunt.  
  
Give it up! Dai laughed.  
  
Jin managed through gritted teeth. He attempted another unsuccessful escape manoeuvre.  
  
Give it up! I got years of younger sibling beat-downs to catch up on! Give it up-  
  
  
  
Ling sighed. Well, he _was_ on fire.  
  
They're both as stubborn as each other, Hwoarang smirked. We could come back tomorrow, and they'd probably be still stuck like this.  
  
No way, Ling pouted. Jin'll win. Her expression turned smug. He'd beat you.  
  
He didn't win the last fight, Hwoarang taunted. Ling jumped up and smacked the Korean on the top of his head. You cheated!  
  
Hwoarang grinned. Hey Dai! Get of your brother so I can show his girlfriend who's the king!  
  
Dai released Jin's arm, albeit reluctantly, and made a sweeping gesture with her arm as she looked up to the forested hills.  
  
He's all yours, sweetheart.  
  


********  


  
Kazuya pulled a photo out of his pocket, a photo which he had been looking at a lot recently, after many years of neglect. In it he was grinning broadly, almost glowing, and Kira's expression was similar. The reason for their smiles was a tiny figure bundled in white, the life they had created together, their little Hana.  
  
If Heihachi had stayed at the bottom of that cliff, maybe they would still be together.  
_  
Stop making excuses,_ he chided himself, _and start blaming yourself.  
  
_I had that photo once.  
  
Kazuya turned, surprise evident on his face, and looked at his daughter. He could see so much of her mother in her, it nearly made it heart stop just seeing her. There was so much he wanted to say, so much that he wanted ask. Instead-  
  
  
  
The response was automatic, and sounded cold and sarcastic even to his ears. To his surprise, Dai chuckled.  
  
Mom often said I took after you, before she even told me who you' was. She looked to the mountains thoughtfully. The whole being purple and evil bit came much later.  
  
Kazuya tried to understand the girl; was she being sarcastic...or was she actually trying to make conversation? He shuffled uncomfortably; there was a question, an answer he needed to know...  
  
Kira....where is she?  
  
She died over ten years ago, Dai said, looking at the mountains again. Kazuya took a deep breath.  
  
he asked quietly.  
  
Cancer, of all things, Dai said, a touch of anger in her voice. She was too young. It wasn't fair.  
  
Kazuya's head dropped. He had lost her again. When he looked back up, Dai noticed that his eyes were moist, but his voice remained steady.  
  
It's funny. I wanted you to be called Dai', but Kira wanted He actually smiled at the memory. She argued that she did all the hard work, so she should have the final say.  
  
That sounds like mom, Dai smirked. When they changed my name, she decided that it should be Dai. Jeremy said that she should just go for Hannah', but she insisted on Dai. Now I know why.  
  
That rhymed.  
  
Dai chuckled, and they sat there, watching Jin and Hwoarang fight, whilst Ling ran around them, refereeing frantically.  
  
Will he ever forgive me?  
  
Dai looked startled. Who? Jin? She tilted her head, and considered the question. I don't know. I think his fury was aimed more at Heihachi. She laughed. He did have a penchant for shooting his grandchildren!  
  
And for dropping his son off high ledges, Kazuya said wryly. Dai was still laughing. Like your mother, you have a sick sense of humour.  
  
I'll take that as a compliment.  
  
It was meant as one, Kazuya said, smiling warmly. It was a strange sensation to him, as if his facial muscles had forgotten how to perform the action. Dai?'  
  
  
  
I don't know if I can be the man your mother wanted me to be.  
  
Dai shrugged, and sprung onto her feet. Then don't be. Be the man you want to be. She smirked.  
  
As long as that man's not purple and evil.  
  
Kazuya sat there for a long time after Dai had gone.  
  


*******  
  


Dai's pace quickened as she approached her friends, and her heart dropped. Surrounding Hwoarang was a small group of soldiers, all wearing the uniform of the Korean army. Jeremy had been very cagey about what action he had taken over Hwoarang, even though it had been months since he had made the threat. Hwoarang looked resigned.  
  
the Colonel barked, papers grasped in hand. Desertion is an offence punishable by court martial.  
  
Jin began to protest, but Hwoarang gestured for him to stop. He saluted stiffly.   
  
  
  
the Colonel continued, displeasure pulling the corners of his mouth down, You have friends in high places, it seems.  
  
  
  
The Colonel thrust the papers at Hwoarang, who took them slowly, and began reading them. The more he read, the wider his grin grew.  
  
Dai said, leaving the question unasked.  
  
I've been given a full, unconditional pardon, he began, And have been discharged from the army.  
  
Lap it up boy, the Colonel snarled. One day, you'll get what's coming to you.  
  
He did an about turn and ordered his men back to the jeep, muttering grimly as he did so. The fighters grinned at each other.  
  
What're you gonna do now? Ling asked.  
  
Right now? I'm gonna kick your boyfriend's ass, he smirked. Jin rolled his eyes before dropping into stance.  
  
You really need to get another hobby, Jin said. He was about to say more when a insistent beeping interrupted him. Dai threw her head back in mock exasperation, and pulled out her phone.  
  
If that's Jeremy, tell him Hwoarang yelled, before launching into battle against Jin.  
  
If it's Jeremy, I'll tell him to bugger off. I'm on sodding holiday, she muttered to herself in English, answering the phone.  
  
Dai, it's Jeremy, the line crackled. Her sigh was evidently heard on the other end. I know you're on holiday, but this is important. It may involve Jin Kazama.  
  
Something about Jeremy's voice sounded tight, almost grim. An unsettling feeling turned her stomach. Go on.  
  
There's been reports of a DG active female on the Okinawa islands, he began. I know this sounds like a standard case, but...well take a look.  
  
Another gentle beep indicated that visual data had been received by her phone. She activated it-  
  
There was something familiar about the woman shown in the photo, even though it was slightly grainy and pixelised - it was obviously taken through a night lens. Her eyes were glowing an unnatural saffron, and the distorted figure of some sort of wolf-like creature hovered over her. Her clothes were tattered, her arms exposed-  
  
Dai understood why Jeremy had mentioned her brother; on the woman's arm was a familiar, jagged tribal tattoo, like two lightning bolts intertwining. She looked at Jin, who at last, after so long, seemed free of the demons, both literal and metaphorical, that had plagued him.  
  
Jeremy, I'll call you in a few days, Dai said.  
  
But this- he began to protest.  
  
-Can wait, Dai said firmly. Bye, Jeremy.  
  
She looked at her friends, and smiled as she rejoined them.  
  
It could wait.  
  


  
  
  
**************The End***************  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Well, that's it folks! My first ever fanfiction over and done with! I'd like to thank everyone  
who has read and offered opinions and encouragement, and my better half, who hasn't been able to check his email properly for the past month or two. And I still don't own the rights to Tekken!  
:-)  
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